Turnabout Roles
by Elizabeth Whittaker
Summary: Phoenix & Edgeworth. SPOILERS. After the party Gumshoe has for Edgeworth, Miles takes a drunk and sick Phoenix back to his place. But when his maid is murdered and Phoenix is poisoned, it's up to Miles to save Phoenix, and defend himself in court!
1. Prologue: Alone

_I swear—Requiem will get done soon, for those of you who read my Gravitation fanfiction. But Phoenix Wright + Miles Edgeworth are absolute love. And Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney: Justice For All just came out two weeks ago._

_Hence, storytime!_

_This is set in **Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney**. There are spoiliers in this story, because it takes place the day after case 4 and before bonus case 5, also known as the DL-6 and SL-9 incident. If you have not played either, I would suggest not reading this story if you haven't played either case, because the bonus characters are in the case later._

_Comments and critiques are appreciated. Flames are not._

_Yes, I also write some words like the British. No, I will not correct them._

* * *

908 Foysintha Street   
Miles Edgeworth's bedroom  
5:45 AM  
December 29th, 2016 

It's always the same. That nightmare of his---he still has it, despite all this time.

That was the first thought Phoenix Wright clearly remembered as he awoke, covering his eyes from the first rays of the sun's light that had came from his bedroom window. The darkness and the light clearly conflicted with each other, and Phoenix could see the start of orange and red beginning to show themselves through the clouds, with just a tiny bit of the sun showing through. As he glanced at it, he started thinking again.

_I realise that he's afraid, but--pushing people away isn't going to do him any good. Doesn't he realise that? Just because Miles acts all tough doesn't mean he doesn't--_

Phoenix's thoughts were interrupted by a beeping sound that repeated itself. Looking around the room a moment, he realised it was the alarm clock beeping next to him and sighed in exasperation. "Alright, alright!" he said, hitting the snooze button on the clock. "I was up five minute early. You think that they'd have an automatic timer to let you know these things." Seeing that the time was 5:45 am, he knew he had about two hours to get down to the office.

As he was about to get out of bed, the bedroom door opened and Phoenix gasped, trying to remember how his door would open on his own. The figure then stepped into the room and he just stared at Miles Edgeworth, who was dressed in full attire for his day's work, minus the frilly neckcollar that he wore in court. It seemed rather strange to Phoenix that he would be without it, but then saw Miles' scowl. "You don't look so---stuffy, Miles," Phoenix said, in a lame attempt to start conversation.

"I believe I left it in this room somewhere. Let's hope you haven't slept on it, Wright," Miles replied curtly, clearly not pleased that something that small was out of place. He then closed the bedroom door and Phoenix noticed that Miles' eyes softened as he held his arm and looked away, as if in thought about something.

"Left it in here? If I recall, you had said you needed to take your suit to the dry cleaners," Phoenix reminded him, trying to understand what was going on here. _Why is Miles in my house? Wait--Miles in my house?_ Phoenix scratched his head as he tried to remember what was going on. _This--_

"Is something wrong, Wright?" Miles glanced over to the man that was still in his bed. "Don't you remember anything about yesterday?" The man took a step closer to him. "You were acting rather strange after dinner last night, and had one too many drinks."

"Huh?" Phoenix's bushy eyebrow rose; clearly the man was confused as to what Edgeworth was saying.

"You were drunk last night. You were so drunk that you were regurgating everything that went into your stomach." Miles looked disgusted just stating this important piece of information. "Since Miss. Fey and Gumshoe took off before this event, Butz and I helped you over here."

"Here?" Phoenix scratched his head. He then noticed that his hair was everywhere and blushed, horrified that he had incredible bed head. He was even more embarrassed that he could not hold liquior, and that the prosecutor learned this information via his own eyes. "Miles, where is here?"

"My house. Unlike yours, which was so cluttered I felt claustrophobic." Miles shivered just at the memory of walking into Wright's house. "I had the liberty of actually having another option, and, since I thought that staying in your home would make me quite ill, I decided to transport you to a place I could--let you recover at."

Phoenix noticed how Miles stopped before finding new words to finish his sentence and stared at him in disbelief for a moment.

_Nice to know that he hates clutter,_ Phoenix said in his head. _Maybe it was a good thing he didn't stay there. My house would have been destroyed with Pledge, Windex, Fantastic cleaner and mopping the floor. Perhaps Miles would have been so neurotic to wax all the floors, buy new suits because mine are too cheap, and even pluck my eyebrows. Would I have anything left in my house when Miles Edgeworth was done?_ The defense attorney shivered at the thoughts, and at the mental image of Miles cleaning his house with gloves on his hands and a rubber suit similar to the color of his suit. _That's even worse. A magenta body suit---all because---_

"You could use the blanket next to you, if you're cold, Wright," Miles smirked, interrupting his thoughts.

He then regained his composure and asked, "So if your frilly stuffy neckcollar is out there, then why are you here, Miles? I imagine someone as famous as you has a case to get a guilt verdict on."

"What good would it do me to face a half wit in court as a defense attorney, Wright?"

_Translation: I wanted to make sure you were alright before I left so you don't do anything stupid in court, Wright,_ Phoenix thought to himself. _Why can't you say this stuff to me, Miles? I wouldn't have had to study law if you could be just forward about everything._

"Objection," Phoenix whispered. "The defense attorney is too tired to deal with these accusations from the prosecution." He shivered and saw Miles frown.

"Overruled," Miles said. "The prosecution has no cases today, and doesn't want to even think of the word 'objection' coming from the rookie defense attorney who is still sick in bed with bedhead."

"But there's an contradiction, Mr. Edgeworth," Phoenix smirked, crossing his arms. "If the prosecution is off duty today, why did the alarm clock go off at 5:45 am?"

Miles gaped a minute and took a step back. "It did?"

"Clearly. It woke me up, Miles." Phoenix yawned as he curled back up in the blanket, closing his eyes. "So why?"

"...I wanted to make sure I was up in case you needed something."

One eye opened and Phoenix looked to see Miles' head hanging on the floor. "Miles?" Phoenix now sat up, staring at him. When Miles still hung his head, Phoenix pushed his blanket off him and stood up, noticing now that he was only wearing his boxers. "What the hell happened to my clothes?!"

Miles looked up and laughed, holding out his arms. "I took them to get dry cleaned, Wright. You looked downright atrocious." He then turned away again as Phoenix took another step closer to him. "Besides, Wright--your suit looks cheap."

"What if I have to go to work--which I do--and I have no clothes?"

"Then call Miss. Fey and say something came up," Miles muttered before looking over to Phoenix. "And then, turn off the mobile and come have breakfast. The robe is over next to the bathroom door, along with a towel. And don't throw up on them this time, alright?" Miles grabbed the door and opened it, then closed it behind him as his footsteps suggested that he was walking away.

_What the hell?_ Phoenix thought to himself. _Miles? ---something clearly is not right. He's acting way too strange._

Phoenix was not going to dispute it now as he headed over to the bathroom, holding his head since he felt lightheaded. He stopped and stood there a moment, his stomach in knots as he tried to think. The defense attorney shivered more, his ribs starting to hurt from shivering so hard. _I don't know what's going on, but I really feel confused--and cold._ His vision blurred as he veered directions and tried to steer himself to the bed. _Was he telling me everything? People who are drunk usually have this go away after they awaken, unless this is a hell of a hangover._

The defense attorney felt colder and shivered as he took a small step towards the bed, clearly dizzy. Eyes unfocused, he glanced over to the door, holding his arms to stop himself from shivering. _When did it get so cold in here? It was--warm---no, cold---but---so cold---_

The door opened again and Phoenix tried to turn his body to see what it was, but his reflexes were rather slow and he felt himself falling to the ground before he could stop himself. He heard some faint buzzing near his ears as he felt softness and warmth embracing him and picking his body up, now that it no longer wanted to move.

"Wright!"

He heard his name clear enough, but his eyes were tired and a soft sigh escaped his lips, blinking sleepily a few times. Everything seemed so complicated for Phoenix at this point--he knew his own name, but he felt terribly cold. It was like he couldn't stop shivering. Yet--he was in Miles' house, or was he? "...so confused..."

"Wright, you clearly were sick before even thinking about having all that liquior last night," Miles said softly. "I think you're coming down with a slight--" He stopped as he saw Phoenix's unfocused and glassy gaze. "Alright, definitely coming down with something. Just don't look at me like some love starked--"

"Miles?" Phoenix asked. "Miles--why?" His head flopped back against the prosecutor who was still holding his shivering body in his arms. "Why is it is damnably cold in here?"

" . . . " Miles was silent as he watched Phoenix's face try to think of what was going on, carrying him to the bed. He saw the emotions play out through his eyes, which were starting to look very unfocused. "It's warm in the house, Wright. Try not to think too much. You'll strain your already addled head." _What the hell is going on? He was sick last night, but more of a hangover. This--this isn't a hangover. This is clearly something else._

"Mil--es," Phoenix whispered, strength seeming to leave him as he was laid and tucked into the bed. His head flopped to one side and his blank stare hit Miles, scaring him. His eyes would not close, and his mouth was wide open.

_Is Wright dead?_ That was the first thought that hit Miles Edgeworth. _Oh god--if he is, then how will court cases be like? I'd have to have another stuffy thumb up his ass rookie who clearly doesn't know what he's doing--wait, no--that's Wright! No one can be like Wright! God--_

Miles panicked. His brain was trying to pluck all logical conclusions of what was going on. _Alcohol poisoning? No, he could breathe, but it doesn't look like it now. We had to take a train back, with Gumshoe and Larry and--I can't remember who else. We did eat on the train, and we did get back a few hours ago. But the only person who attended to him here was the bellboy and the maid, who said she gave him some medicine._

_Miles,_ he scolded himself. _Stop thinking. If you think too much, you'll let Phoenix die. You can't have that, can you?_

"Phoenix!" Miles whispered as he saw that the defense attorney had something very wrong with him. "Phoenix, damn it! This isn't---" He checked for a pulse on Phoenix's wrist and did feel a very faint one. "Incorrigible."

Trying to keep himself calm, the prosecutor went over to the desk that had Phoenix's cell phone and cursed that it was locked. _Who locks their cell phone in French?_() Miles thought, reaching in his pocket for his cell phone which was not there. "Damn it," he cursed. "Andrea, can you get the phone off the charger and bring it here, please?"

He heard familiar barking and cursed. "Pesu, be quiet! It's almost 6 in the morning!" Yet the dog would not calm down, and that was unusual because Andrea would immediately give Pesu something to try to make him be quiet.

He was expecting an answer from the maid of the household, but was surprised that there was not an answer. "Andrea!" he yelled again, accented by a loud series of barking from Pesu. Then a growl, and then it was silent.

"Pesu? Andrea?" he called out shakily as he was now alert and ran out into the kitchen. When he did, he saw two things. He saw that his young housemaid was laying on the kitchen floor, where he stepped out of a few moments prior to meeting with his now comatose counterpart. However, she was laid in a odd position and blood was oozing on the floor, adding to the blood puddle that had drenched the young girls blond hair. "Andrea!" he yelled, trying to find out where the blood had been coming from.

As he went to reach over for the phone, his foot came into contact with something soft and sticky and realised that it was Pesu, crumpled up in a heap with a knife in his shoulder. The dog was still alive, but whimpering as Edgeworth moved his foot away from the dog. The first thing he thought of was to stroke the dog's head, reassuring him it would be fine, but then he reached for the phone that was in the charger beside the toaster and with shaky fingers, had called 911.

He was tempted to take the knife out of the dog's shoulder, but didn't want his fingerprints on the evidence.

"I need an ambulance!" Miles yelled as he panicked, faced with the possiblity of two dead people in his house.

"Calm down sir. We'll do all we can to help the situation. Now, what address should they come down to?" The woman on the phone was very calm, and was being rather friendly to someone who was in shock.

Miles stared at Andrea's form, which was still unmoving. Then he stared into the bedroom, where Phoenix was still completely out of it. _Miles . . . you have to remain calm._ Trying to clear his head, he said, "908 Foysintha Street."

"And what is the reason for your call, sir?"

"Sir?" the woman pressed again.

"I have a defense attorney who is very sick and won't respond to anything and has hardly a pulse. He's been unresponsive, cold, and can't move."

"Alright, we'll be out right away." With that she hung up the phone.

Miles sighed in relief. _Phoenix, I'll save you yet. Even if I can't save Andrea._ Miles then remembered that he had to call the police and report the murder, and he dialed the only number he needed to, lucky that he had their personal cell phone number. Shaky fingers dialed the 10 digit number and he let it ring four times. As he was about to hang up, a voice answered.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Gumshoe, I need you to come by my house," Miles said softly. "Now."

"I knew it! You got a--"

"One more word, Mr. Gumshoe, and I'll make your salary so low you'll be living off of noodles the rest of your life; and you'll have to come over the house to make them. This is not a social call!" Edgeworth roared into the phone. "My maid is dead and Wright is---almost dead. The ambulance are on their way for him, but--"

"I get it, Boss. We'll be over shortly. You know they'll have to take you in for questioning because you're the only one there."

Miles nodded. "I know. Just get over here now. Preferably in the next 10 minutes. And take Pesu with you so I know that my dog is fed--once she's out of the hospital I'm about to put him in. Someone stabbed my fucking dog." Miles hung up the phone abruptly and he walked back into the room Phoenix was in, shaking himself at the events that had transpired. He huddled against the wall, arms around his knees as he sat down and rocked back and forth, (a state which he allowed no one to let them see him in) and let silent tears run down his face as he gazed at Phoenix, who's face was ghostly white.

_Clearly someone was trying to come after one of us---but was it me, or Phoenix?_ Edgeworth thought silently. _No matter. They made it my personal matter and I will get to the bottom of this---no matter what it takes._

() my fiancée has his phone locked in French, and has it programmed to the language.


	2. Turnabout Luck

_I had fun writing this bit with Detective Gumshoe ;) Poor guy, he's always getting the short end of the stick. That should change soon though._

_Special Notes: This is set during **Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney**. There are spoilers in this story, because it takes place the day after case 4 and before bonus case 5, also known as the DL-6 (case 4) and SL-9 incident (case 5). I would suggest not reading this story if you haven't played either case, because the bonus characters are in the case later._

_Comments and critiques are appreciated. Flames are not._

_Yes, I also write some words like the British. No, I will not correct them._

* * *

Dick Gumshoe's Honda Accord  
5:52 AM  
December 29, 2106 

Detective Gumshoe cursed as he made a hard right with the steering wheel, cutting off another car in the next lane. The car honked its horn, but Gumshoe ignored it, slightly upset that was called out of bed at six in the morning. He thought about how cold it was outside as he looked away from the driver's window for a moment and took out his little Nokia mobile phone that Edgeworth bought for him, feeling it vibrate in his hand.

As he felt it vibrate, he glanced up and saw that he almost ran another red light. He slammed on the brakes, hoping that he could stop before the light turned red. But to no avail; Gumshoe ran it and what was worse—

There was a security camera that snapped a picture of the lovely detective, with the vibrating mobile in hand.

Mr. Edgeworth would be mad at him, sure. He'd take care of this bill later, right? But hey! It was a life or death situation! At least, that's what he could tell from Mr. Edgeworth's voice. Never had he heard such desperation and panic from the prosecutor. Mr. Wright almost dead?

He nearly skidded off the road as he swerved, passing Mr. Edgeworth's house. With a hard right, he made a complete U-turn in someone's perfect lawn. _There goes the rest of my salary,_ Gumshoe thought as he left tire tracks on the street, turning and finally made the right turn into the court. _I may not have electricity come the end of the month—and it's really cold for December._

The detective felt the phone vibrate again. He was not picking up the phone. Who called him at six in the morning?

He managed to find a place to park the car (almost crushing the poor yellow Honda Accord in between two cars) and opened the door, slamming it as he ran up to Mr. Edgeworth's house. There were not too many thoughts that could rush past in the detective's mind as he ran toward the door. Or would have until he could finally open the door with the spare key. He fumbled around for it a moment, making _sure_ he had the key. The last thing he wanted to do was break Mr. Edgeworth's door down. How upset he would be then.

And Gumshoe could not afford to have his salary go down any lower, even if he thought highly of the prosecutor. He needed heat to survive the cold in Los Angeles—even if they usually never got cold spells. But there was still snow on the ground, he thought—

The phone vibrated again. Whoever was calling sure was persistent.

Gumshoe felt the phone vibrate once more and, now sufficiently annoyed that he just got a ticket, and at having the phone vibrate repeatedly, answered it as he was rushing to open Edgeworth's door. "Yeah, Boss?" he asked, knowing that not many people called the detective. He thought it was either Mr. Edgeworth ---it was why he answered the way he did.

"Detective Gumshoe---have you heard from Nick?"

He was taken aback by the female voice on the phone and scratched his head, looking rather confused. "From who? You sure you don't have a wrong number?"

"Detective Gumshoe, you gave it to me last night! Remember? At dinner?" The woman sounded annoyed, and slightly upset that he even forgot who she was.

_Ah! I remember. Mia Fey, or whoever that girl is—the one who's with Harry Butz!_ Of course, this was not correct, but Gumshoe didn't conceivably know this. Again. He was quite forgetful. How he was a detective was a mystery, even to him. "You're the girl with Harry, right?"

" . . . One day, remember that his name is Nick, Detective Gumshoe," she said, exasperated. "I'm Maya Fey. And I was wondering if you've heard from Nick. He was due in the office a little bit ago."

_Oh, Wright!_ Then he remembered why he was here. What good was he doing, talking to her on the phone when _he should be investigating the scene?_ "Well, Mr. Edgeworth called and said something about Wright being almost dead---"

"NICK?!"

Gumshoe was very lucky he took his ear away from the Nokia phone in time to hear Maya screech. Then, after a moment, as he was opening Edgeworth's door with the spare key, he said, "If that's his first name, yes—he called from his house. I'm there now and I need to do some investigating!"

"Before you hang up—" Maya said, "What's the address?"

" . . . He's the white house on Foysintha Street. You can't miss it. It's got his red sports car, pal." Gumshoe now got the key into the door and was opening it.

" . . . alright. I'll be there as soon as I can—" She huffed and then Gumshoe heard, "HEY! TAXI!!"

Gumshoe hung up the phone, wanting to keep the rest of what little hearing he had left. If he was right, Maya Fey would be yelling at lot more when she saw the scene of the crime.

* * *

908 Foysintha Street  
(Miles Edgeworth's House)  
5:57 AM  
December 29th, 2016 

He finally sighed in relief as he opened the door and glanced around the room, scratching his head. _Strange. It LOOKS perfectly normal in here—Maybe he had another---_

A few steps later and he was in the kitchen. He almost missed the fact that he nearly stepped in something, he was so absorbed in his scatterbrained thoughts. When he noticed that something WAS sticking to the floor, the first thought that came to mind was that Edgeworth was slipping in keeping his house clean. _Mr. Edgeworth would never keep his kitchen like mine-- _

Gumshoe glanced down—and his thought stopped at the sight of the dead woman on the floor. He took careful precautions to avoid stepping on the obvious dead woman and the pool of blood, making sure not to make Mr. Edgeworth's kitchen anymore bloodier.

_Gotta remember what the Boss says. Don't touch anything in his house. Wait, I don't have time to be thinking this!_

Gumshoe walked around, hearing the clopping sound that his shoes were making on the floor. He pulled out his gun as he looked around and yelled, "HEY PAL, OR UM ANYONE ELSE WHO'S HERE! YOU'RE... Uh... TOTALLY SURROUNDED! I'VE GOTCHA COVERED, AND IF YOU EVEN TOUCH THE BOSS I'LL--"

"Detective—in here," a familiar voice called softly.

_Mr. Edgeworth? He doesn't sound like his usual self,_ Gumshoe told himself. _Then again---a murder DID take place in his house—he must be wanting to clean that floor really bad. He hates clutter._ Gumshoe headed to the left side of the kitchen, rushing to the source of Edgeworth's voice in a flash. "Mr. Edgeworth, are you alright? How is... is..."

The first thing he noticed was that Miles Edgeworth was curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, his eyes focused on the figure on the bed. The way that he looked made Gumshoe feel rather bad for him. The second thing was that his cravat was not on his neck, and that he was rather distraught. _Poor guy. He just got out of jail. He just got declared innocent yesterday. It hasn't even been 24 hours yet, and already, he may be convicted of murder again. No wonder he's so---_ He noticed the drying tears coming off of Miles's face and saw him quickly try to brush them away before he saw anything. _ . . . he . . . Boss . . . _"So, how is—"

" . . . don't know . . . " Miles said, closing his eyes and adjusting himself out of the ball that he was curled up in. Gumshoe saw him brush himself off and glanced again over at Phoenix, a hand on his arm as he did so.

"I rushed over as fast as I could!" Gumshoe told him hurriedly, scratching his head. "I..."

" . . .he's been like that for a few minutes, Gumshoe."

Detective Gumshoe saw how Miles looked over at him and wondered what it was that Mr. Edgeworth was thinking. The two were rivals. He even learned at one point that they used to be classmates in school. That much he learned in the DL-6 investigation, and in the reunion yesterday with the weirdo in the four faces t-shirt. Ironic that he should mistake Phoenix Wright with the Butz. But nonetheless . . .

The way that Miles was glancing over at his rival made Gumshoe wonder if something more was going on with them. However, his starting thought was cut off before he could ask Edgeworth anything.

Where is the rest of the investigation team?"

Gumshoe looked at Phoenix, then to Mr. Edgeworth. And once more for good measure. Then he lowered his head. "I-I'm sorry Mr. Edgeworth . . . they . . . they're . . . the rest of the force are coming as fast as they can . . . "

_What else can I tell him? He just looks so . . . I don't know, but it isn't like the Boss._ " . . . Mr. Edgeworth?"

" . . . " It seemed to take Miles a while to just notice that Gumshoe spoke to him, and the detective noticed that he was lost in thought, staring at the bed as if the situation would drastically change. " . . . I can't find my cravat," he muttered. "Was really the last thing Wright and I talked about . . . "

"The carvat?" Gumshoe asked, scratching his head. "Oh!" His eyes lit up as he saw that Miles was not wearing it. "Your neck collar!"

"Yes, Gumshoe."

Gumshoe looked at Edgeworth once more before looking to the side. The situation was certainly tense. There was hardly anything he could do to ease the growing tension that was in the air. It just seemed to pour out in spades, and even Gumshoe's continuous optimism was failing him. Or maybe that was because he just got that ticket –no matter. Gumshoe vowed to try to cheer him up. "Sir! Um! Um!" Then his eyes fell upon the defense lawyer and he scratched his head. _What did spikey always say in court, when the boss was on a roll --- Objection! Yeah, that's it! Maybe—_

"I uh, objection!" Gumshoe tried to do the cool pose that Phoenix presented in court, including pointing his finger at Edgeworth. It was the only thing he could think up to even try and help his boss.

Miles just gaped, his eyes widening at the thought of Detective Gumshoe pulling off a Phoenix Wright. A smirk lifted on the side of his lips before whispering, " . . . overruled."

"They should be here soon," Gumshoe said, tense that he could not do his job.

" . . . yes, but when? And _where _is that ambulance I asked for?" Miles glanced over to the window and sighed.

Gumshoe snapped to attention and saluted him. "Sir! I called the ambulances right after you! They said they were working on it! I took . . . the faster way here and I'm . . . sure . . . I saw an ambulance!"

"I should lower their salary as well—maybe they'll work harder to earn it back," he muttered, glancing at the enthusiastic detective who seemed to regain his optimism. "You're sure?"

"Well—no—" he sheepishly laughed.

Edgeworth glared at him, clearly not pleased.

Gumshoe glanced away from Edgeworth to look at the defense lawyer once more. "Sir . . . what are we . . . you know . . . my investigation. . . . the uh . . . evidence . . . " The detective lowered his head once more, looking at Edgeworth. " . . . "

" . . . just start investigating." Miles then glanced away from him, turning around to look at the window. "They better get here soon. And _don't touch anything unnecessary_."

"Yessir!" Gumshoe took flight from the room, and the terrible aura that seemed to engulf Mr. Edgeworth. He shook his head and stepped into the kitchen once more, wondering what other demons lurked in the man to make him suffer so. _ . . . something's really not right with the Boss. Why would this—why would it be his house that's attacked?_

_Alright, Dick,_ he told himself. _Look at the FACTS of the situation. That's why the Boss calls you, to get the facts! _ Then he sighed in defeat and still blanched at the sight of the dead maid that was laying on the kitchen floor. Something inside told him to leave the dead woman alone, since the investigation team was on its way to check out the crime. But there was hardly anything that he could do without an investigation team _–yet, Harry Butz does it all the time! –wait, that girl said his name's Nick. But—Oh!_ The whole thing started to make sense for Gumshoe. _Phoenix Wright! I hope I remember that later._

_But the fact remains . . . what can I do without an investigation team? There's not much I can do—_Gumshoe checked his watch. 6:00 AM on the dot, and he called it in 15 minutes ago. What was taking them so long?

_Alright—so let me think—the maid. Is she still bleeding? How did she die? She could have been shot, but there's no bullets—there's---WAIT!_ Gumshoe saw something sticking out of her neck. It looked like a dart—one of them that was used for dartboard games. However—it had yellow and black plastic feathers sticking out on the sides. And something clear in the middle of the dart.

Liquid. Just a tiny bit left, but Gumshoe was sure that this was a clue.

Other then that, there was no other substantial evidence. The man sighed. He couldn't touch anything else, but it was blatantly on the woman's neck. How could anyone miss this _huge_ clue?

"MR. EDGEWORTH, SIR!" Gumshoe yelled, not really sure if that would get him to listen.

His voice traveled from the other room. "Just go on and wait for them, then. That ambulance should be---"

"I found a clue, sir! There's a dart in the woman!"

"Good job, Gumshoe! Anything else?"

" . . . I can't do much else, sir, without the investigation team." Gumshoe hung his head.

"Then just wait for—"

The sentence was cut off by the ringing of Miles' home phone. Both of them looked at each other. Should they answer it? Was it the murderer? Was it the ambulance to confirm the address? Or was it the police department making excuses? Either way—

Someone had to get the phone.


	3. Delerium and Coded Secrets

_Ok, this chapter turned out rather longer then I expected it to, so here are some notes._

_First, Phoenix is poisoned with Ketamine. If you don't know what that is, look it up on Wikipedia. You will see that the side effects are shivering, and loss of senses, time and movement. It is an anesthetic that they use on animals for surgery. This is not an easy drug to obtain. Poor Miles doesn't know this, however. And yes, it smells like smoke if it's taken orally, which—it was in his drink as they will learn in the trial._

_The second is that yes, they are panicking. Wouldn't you, if someone you cared about was actually dying?_

_Lastly, this was a very emotional chapter for me to write, and I would like to thank feyminshin and kikkochan555 from the Gyakuten Saiban community for helping me beta this chapter. She did such a great job. I would also like to thank my Gravitation betaers for the medical terms and finding a poison that fit Phoenix's symptoms, and they are Noramary and Kaitie McCabe._

_Special Notes: This is set during **Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney**. There are spoilers in this story, because it takes place the day after case 4 and before bonus case 5, also known as the DL-6 (case 4) and SL-9 incident (case 5). I would suggest not reading this story if you haven't played either case, because the bonus characters are in the case later._

_Comments and critiques are appreciated. Flames are not._

_Yes, I also write some words like the British. No, I will not correct them ;p_

-------------------

Criminal Affairs

Chief Prosecutor's Office

6:00 AM

December 29, 2016

" . . . I see. Very well. Get them down to the house, and bring in any potential suspects." The woman on the phone sighed as she looked at the document that she was typing up on her computer, the black phone by her ear as someone was telling her something.

She sighed. The investigation team were a bunch of idiots.

How could they not find the location to the house—even after being told twice?

Nonetheless, the woman adjusted her muffler and glanced over at the police report that she was writing. It was almost done. Just ten more minutes and she could hand it in to the Chief of Police. Just ten more minutes . . .

Ten minutes that she knew she would not have for quite a long time.

" . . . detective, I don't care if you have to run every red light in the district to get to the location. Just _get there_ and stop giving me excuses on why you are fifteen minutes late to a crime investigation scene. Understand?" She waited for his response and frowned. "Good. Now get there, and report back to me on what you find. And bring Miles Edgeworth down for questioning. That is all." The woman hung up the phone, balling her hand in a fist.

Why did she have to work with idiots who knew nothing of their job?

The phone rang again and the brown eyed woman glanced forlornly at her computer screen. She would never get this report done in time, at the rate this was going. "Skye, here."

"Is that report done yet, Lana?" a deep male voice asked over the phone. "I need that done so I can give that to the prosecutor of the case for this morning's trial."

"About that—" Lana started. She was not exactly sure what to say. She fumbled for the right words, biting her fingernail to think of something.

"Need I remind you who got you into the Chief Prosecutor's office, Lana?" the man said. "That report. In ten minutes. The trial is in a few hours."

"Chief Gant," Lana answered, "Miles Edgeworth—he called in a murder. It was—somewhat disturbing—"

"Ah, Worthy? How is that boy doing? Is he at the office this morning?" Gant chuckled on the phone. "So he reported a murder. How does that stop you from—"

Lana wanted to pick up her coffee cup and throw it at the computer, pretending it was Damon Gant's head. Sometimes he did this to annoy her, and that was the problem. There was nothing she could do about it. But she took a deep breath instead and remained level headed.

"The murder, Chief Gant, took place in his house. And it seems that there's another twist to it. Defense attorney, Phoenix Wright, was with him. And it seems someone tried to murder him, from what Detective Gumshoe told me when he called for the investigation team." She paused, knowing that Gant would make the connection in a moment and took her ear away from the phone, not wanting to hear his horrible laughter.

As predicted, Gant laughed, and when he was done, Lana put her ear back on the phone.

"What a twist that is," she heard him say thoughtfully. "Why don't you go with the investigation team to apprehend any suspects, Lana?"

"The report—" she started to say. "I was almost done the report—"

"Go with them, Lana. I'll take care of it myself."

Lana nodded, a sad look to her face as she grabbed her car keys. "You want Miles brought in, Gant."

"Well, he _is_ a suspect to murder, isn't he? What choice do we have? That idiot, Gumshoe, certainly won't do it—not even if I raised his salary. His loyalty is to Worthy. I can't have him get away, my dear." Gant paused a moment as he thought.

" . . . what do you mean?" Lana asked carefully. "He does his job."

"Does it matter if he does his job? He's a suspect to murder. I want him brought in." Gant left no room to discuss the matter as he hung up the phone, ending the conversation.

Lana cursed as she slammed the phone down, wishing that she had never had the job she did. It was on days like this that she hated what she did, she thought, as she grabbed her trenchcoat and gloves. The report was still left up on her computer as she slipped the gloves on and grabbed her keys and purse, anxious to be out of there before Gant had come back into her office.

_Miles . . . you actually cared about your job—but—would you still if you knew—_Lana stopped her thought and shook her head. _It doesn't matter if he's good at what he does, or if I don't think Miles did it. The fact remains, it is decisive. Miles Edgeworth was at the scene of the crime, in his own house._

_I have to bring him in._

_Nothing can change that. Nothing can change the fact that Miles did not do it unless we get some evidence._

_And, as you would say, Miles—_Lana thought, going out her office door—_**"If you have no evidence, then you have no case. Without it, you are nothing."** _She hung onto the words that Edgeworth told her one day when she asked him about how he was sure he could obtain a guilty verdict and keep his perfect record. Lana remembered the look in his eyes. There was something there, something she could not put her finger on.

Nonetheless, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed a number in a hurry. Lana closed her eyes a moment as she walked, noting that she had to wait for the elevator to come down. "Richardson. Tell the investigation team that I'll be down there shortly. Do not let Miles Edgeworth get away—no matter what the cost." She let the phone stay by her ear a moment as she waited for the correct response before ending her phone call, closing it as she shoved it back in her purse.

_I'm sorry, Miles_, Lana thought as she heard the elevator ding to indicate that the doors would open. _But I have to do what Gant says . . . I can't just turn my back on him, even if I think you're innocent. _

"Miles—I'm sorry."

------------

908 Foysintha Street

(Miles Edgeworth's Bedroom)

6:03 AM

December 29th, 2016

Miles Edgeworth shivered as he glanced toward the kitchen, hearing the phone ring for the fourth time. He went from glancing over at the defense attorney on the bed to the phone that had made a fifth ring before standing up from his position on the ground. "Gumshoe."

"Yessir?" he heard in the other room.

"Did—"

The phone stopped. Miles' thought was cut off as he focused on that one fact—that the phone blissfully stopped ringing. He looked back at Phoenix, who was groaning softly and then back at Gumshoe. "Did you check to make sure there are no suspicious people out on the premises?" He did not bother to look to the door—he knew Gumshoe was scratching the back of his head.

His voice confirmed the sheepish action as he said, " . . . I'll check now, sir. Just stay where you are. I'll make sure to catch any suspicious looking people!"

Miles nodded, not saying anything as he heard another moan coming out of the figure on the bed. He heard thudding footprints run out the door and smiled softly. _At least someone's on my side,_ he thought as he saw something out the corner of his eye.

He turned his head, taking a shaky breath. A hand was popping out of the blanket that he had wrapped Phoenix in to keep him warm. Hope flooded through Miles. The thought of his childhood friend dying, leaving him—because of something he was caught up in—

It just was not fair. Even if Phoenix did piss him off in the court room, and that he did his job well.

The hand started to fall as a series of sounds came from Phoenix and Miles caught the hand, feeling just how cold it was. The fingertips were icy. So were the huge fingers that Phoenix had. A slow blush crept to his face, and then he shook his head. _He's sick, Miles. You're just holding his hand to feel for circulation. Nothing else._

_  
**Nothing else.**_

With that, the blush slowly dissipated. Miles glanced at Phoenix's face and saw that he was still trying to understand just why his body was betraying him. Why it would not obey him. It was the first sign of life in the last fifteen minutes the prosecutor had seen and he put the blanket back around Phoenix, desperately trying to keep him from shivering. Even if he did not like Phoenix, he never wished for him to die, or suffer like this. His hand touched the defense attorney's face to feel how it was, and found that it was burning up, from his cheeks to his forehead.

He clearly was sporting a fever.

_Where the hell is that ambulance?_ Miles thought sourly. _It should not take them this long!_

And then, lying on his back, Phoenix began to cough violently. His eyes slammed shut as he did so. He was beginning to have a harder time breathing and his face was turning red. Miles watched for a moment before the coughing subsided. Phoenix's hand was starting to fall. If Miles was not holding his hand, it would have hit the side of the bed.

It was then that he noticed how bloody cold his arm was, and Miles heard a soft cough before a whispered, " . . . cold . . ." His teeth chattered.

Miles nodded, not really thinking about it as he let go of Phoenix's hand to try to obtain another blanket for the man. He could clearly see Phoenix shivering and rather hard as the arm hit the side of the bed, and then dangled off it. _There has to be another blanket, _the man told himself as he ran over to his closet to try to find one.

His search resulted in a Steel Samurai comforter that Miles was embarrassed that Oldbag had given him, but he was thanking something upstairs that this was still in his closet. Phoenix would be a bit warmer. Maybe he would actually not freeze to death, despite it being 85 degrees in his bedroom alone. Grabbing it, he ran back over and put it overtop the thin white blanket that was covering the other's body.

Miles saw Phoenix sigh in relief, his one hand taking part of it as his tremors of cold subsided—but when his glassy eyes gazed around, and took notice of Miles, the prosecutor was not sure if he truly knew the severity of the situation, or if he even knew where he was. "Wright?" he asked softly. " . . . you any warmer?"

" . . . Miles . . .?" Phoenix's voice seemed to be very far away as he asked for the prosecutor. " . . . cold . . ." A defeated sigh as his eyes partly closed.

"I know you're cold," Miles said gently. "You have every blanket I have."

" . . . Mia . . .Maya . . . so . . .l—lost—coold—" The defense attorney shivered again, and Miles sighed. He had no other blankets to give the man. He gave him all he had. He gave him every logical resource that he could possibly think of.

And giving him his body warmth certainly was not logical, nor on Miles' list of things to give to Phoenix. He was still his friend—but that would be crossing the line.

Or would it?

"So . . . lost," Phoenix whispered. "Mia . . ."

_Mia Fey?_ Miles asked himself. _Why would he whispering to her? Every time he mentions her, he gets down about it. I know she died . . . what am I talking about—that was my real first case against Wright. But—she can't possibly hear him. There are no such things as ghosts, _he reminded himself._ Or true spirit mediums. Even if Misty Fey thought she could see my father._

_I simply cannot believe that Wright would think that Mia Fey—_

"Could've just said----proved he was innocent----but---so---co--cold---Miles . . . " His name came out in a gasp as he coughed again. This time it lasted for half a minute before he fell silent and his eyes, half open and laced with drugged sleepiness, looked over at Miles. But Miles knew he was not seeing him. He knew he was still in his fever dream, trying to find something to hold to.

Just like Miles was, because none of this made a damn bit of sense to him.

"Phoenix, you better start making sense," Miles muttered.

" . . . love . . ." Phoenix murmured. " . . . cold . . . just so cold to . . . me . . ." It was the last thing he said before falling unconscious again.

"WRIGHT!" Miles screamed, frustrated that he was talking in riddles. "SAY SOMETHING!" Completely unnerved, Miles went to his form and tried shaking him to try to rouse him.

No good. No response.

Miles shook harder, only to have the same effect. He kept on shaking him, just completely panicking. His mind went into overload. Too many things were happening at once to him. _Thank god no one else is around. Thank god Phoenix won't remember a bit of this. I can't let him see me like this –_

_  
I do care about him. But I hate that it's making me so irrational._

It took him a moment to stop shaking him because his hands were involuntarily clenched around his shoulders, trying to revive him. Miles forced himself to stop and lay him back down on the bed, seeing Phoenix's pale face and his bed head of hair. The sight of it was just . . . uncanny to him.

Then he felt his neck. It felt so bare without his cravat. He wondered if Phoenix had it, and sighed. Even if he did, he could not get it back from him now. Slumping in half exhaustion, he sat on the side of the bed and on the floor, facing away from the figure in the bed.

"Phoenix, you—"

Then a voice interrupted his monologue of conversation between unconscious Phoenix and himself.

"Sir! There wasn't any suspicious people in the vicinity of--" Gumshoe stopped in mid sentence as he ran into the room, huffing and taking a deep breath. "He's still—sir?"

"NIIIIIIIIIIIICK!"

Miles Edgeworth and Dectective Gumshoe glanced at the girl who was screaming and both of them looked at each other. Then they looked at the door, and then they saw the familiar girl in the kimono, with the long purple ribbon around her waist, and the magatama around her neck.

"Well, I see that no one is going to bother to knock on my door," Miles muttered as he turned around to face them better. He rubbed his eyes. They burned with being up so long, and only have a rough half hour of sleep before all this happened. He stood up a moment later and heard another gasp from Phoenix.

Miles leaned back over to him and tried once again to shake him, this time gently to try to wake up Phoenix. " . . . say something that makes sense!" Miles implored. "Just say _something_." He shook him again, a hand grabbing his shoulder.

He did not even get to try to shake him before he felt a hard shove to his own shoulder and fell into the wall, his left shoulder colliding with it and part of his head on the windowsill. Miles closed his eyes, pain exploding at where he was hit and dazed as he fell to the floor. _Who pushed me--_

_"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO NICK?!" _

"HEY! You can't just push Mr. Edgeworth, pal! I even--"

"NIIIIICK! Talk to me! _Nick!_"

Miles shook his head as he got up from where he fell on the floor, holding the side of it. He saw Maya, her body draped upon Phoenix's shivering body, shaking at the sight of her friend in such a state. "How much did he have to drink?" she asked in the midst of her tears. "Was it the drinks? Why is he like this, Mr. Edgeworth?! Aren't you his friend?"

_. . .Why does—_

"Mia?"

They saw Phoenix's eyes blink in his fevered state and he stared at Maya a moment before glancing over at her. "Ch—chief. But—you're—"

"Oh god," Maya whispered, covering her mouth as she raised her body up to look at him. "Edgeworth –Nick—" Her body fell backwards as she fainted, shock overloading her senses.

He would have gone after and caught her himself if Gumshoe had not gone after her and fell hard on his knees as he caught the spirit medium, who would have landed head first on Miles' wooden floor had he not done so. But the detective winced. "Waaah!" He felt bad as he looked to his boss. "Um, I'm sorry sir, but I had to . . . "

Miles just stared at the passed out defense attorney, not hearing much. He was in complete shock. But he did catch up on what Gumshoe was saying a moment later, after looking at Maya passed out in Gumshoe's lap. "Good job, Gumshoe." Then he turned back over to Phoenix and kept an eye on him. "Where are those people?! Didn't you call them 20 minutes ago?!" Miles roared at the detective.

_The boss –he's seriously pissed._

Seriously pissed did not cover the words that roared out of the prosecutor's mouth. It had been twenty minutes since the ambulance had been called, and still, there was no one on the scene. There was not even the investigation team there! That was what was worrying him the most. He could not do his job.

_Well, I did uncover that dart –but what else can I do?_

And then, another loud yell, and eyes staring at him.

"Where is the investigation team, Gumshoe?"

Gumshoe was at a loss. Not that this was a surprise. Edgeworth was always on edge whenever something did not get followed to the letter. "Mister Edgeworth. Mister Edgeworth SIR!" Gumshoe glanced at the girl who was in his lap and sighed, irritated that there was no investigation team there yet. _This is unusual, even for them. I'll knock them straight when they get here._ "They should be on their way, sir."

Then he took a look at the to-be victim, Mr. Phoenix Wright. Just what happened? _He already looks like a victim,_ Gumshoe thought. _Did he get something too? Something happened to him, that much I know. It sure has the Boss out of shape, whatever it is._

"There will be a lot of salaries lowered this month," Edgeworth quipped, "if they are not here within the next five minutes."

"Well, I—"

As Gumshoe tried to position Maya again, he noticed that she was a lot heavier then she was a moment ago. It took a little more effort of lift her and then he heard a huff from the woman who was opening her eyes. He suddenly noticed that her voice was deeper as she said, "If you would be so kind— just because I have boobs does not mean you should poke them." The woman smirked as she met Detective Gumshoe's glance.

It was then that he noticed that his hand was resting on one, and he jumped, scratching his head as he blushed in embarrassment. "I--I'msorryIdidn'tmeanto--"

"That's alright—" she answered, crossing her arms. "But do you think I could get up, now? I am fine, after all."

----

" . . . Miss Fey." Miles was trying to make sense of what was going on. "Exactly what is going on here? Did you not just—" He shook his head, holding it on one side. Nothing was making sense right now. The maid—Phoenix—Pesu— "Has anyone checked the perimeter, or my dog, for that matter? I don't want the police to do anything to Pesu."

"There was no one—" Gumshoe started.

"Go check again!" Miles barked at him. Then he sighed. He could not lose his composure right now. There would be police here soon. And someone had to be strong, after all. Even if he was falling apart at the seams. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced over to the detective, who looked like a lost puppy dog. "Go check on Pesu. Stay with the dog until they get here. They should be there SOON."

Gumshoe nodded. "Yessir!" Getting off his knees, he sniffed and rubbed his nose before starting to run out the door.

"And then, when they _do _get here, take him to a veterinarian hospital. Make sure they take the knife out first. That's the last thing I want the vet to think!"

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth," he replied as he rushed out of the room. "So do—"

"Just **go**," Miles implored. "Just stay out there till they come, alright?"

No reply from Gumshoe, meaning he had already run off to the nearest destination. Miles sighed in relief as he heard another groan from the bed and glanced down wearily. Phoenix was still unconscious. The man placed a hand on his forehead without thinking about it as he glanced over to the woman who was now standing in front of him . . . clearly, not the petite figure that she was before.

_. . . it can't be . . . Is that—that's not Maya Fey, is it? But how –she doesn't have that kind of figure—unless she's— _ He stared at her a bit more, his voice tentative as he asked, "Miss. Fey---?"

"Mr. Edgeworth," she said. "What exactly—" 

"That's what I like to know, Miss. Fey," he answered. "I know—"

A whisper from the bed next to him. "Mia—"

The woman's gaze was firm as she looked at Edgeworth a moment, but then became gentle as she knelt beside Phoenix and put a hand on his forehead. "Nick." She sighed softly as they saw him shy away from her hand. " . . . What's happened thus far, Mr. Edgeworth? Are you alright yourself?"

" . . . I'm not exactly sure, Miss. Fey," Edgeworth said softly. He noticed that the woman was fighting back tears and she was biting her lip nervously. He knew the feeling all too well, but he took a deep breath and continued his explanation. "I came in here to check on Wright---you know, because he was clearly ill from alcohol consumption the night before. He was fine when I came in. Wright just shivered a lot, so I thought he was cold. Actually, we had a bit of a--" Miles glanced down at him. "Objection."

Miles tried to remember what exactly happened. "Andrea was fixing breakfast---some of it is still outside on the stove. That's when I came in to check on Wright, and said that he could eat breakfast before going into the office. I also had forgotten I had to make an emergency appointment to get his clothes dry cleaned since they looked rather---grungy." Edgeworth said, for a lack of better words. "I came back out, and everything was fine. It was when I thought he was taking too long that I came back in and he just fell. "

As he finished his explanation, he saw Phoenix glancing clearly at Mia for a second and reached his hand out toward her. The woman took his hand in both her own, tears coming to her eyes as she watched him. Miles noted this difference in behavior and saw her just staring at him as his mouth moved slowly, trying to say something. The words were not audible.

Then he glanced at the woman and saw her eyes meeting his. "Mr. Edgeworth, can you understand what Nick is trying to say?"

Miles shook his head. " . . . he's rather incoherent. I can't understand much, just mostly names. Maya, Mia, Miles, mostly. And some weird . . . thing about love and cold. That's the most I can piece out without him shivering to death . . . "

"Edgeworth. What happened before Wright woke up?"

He saw the amused look on the woman's face before glancing at the door. Then dismissed it as his brown eyes glanced toward the door, looking rather angry. " . . . it has now been 20 minutes since I called that ambulance! Where the hell are they?!"

" . . . I'm sure they're coming. For now . . ."

_There are no such things as true spirit mediums—but here this woman is, clearly **not** Miss. Fey. Her chest looks like it's going to pop out of her clothing, she's at least 4 inches taller, and—did her **hair** change? _Miles stared at her for a long moment before the words slipped out his mouth. "Are you Maya or Mia Fey?"

"Mia Fey is dead," the woman stated a matter of factly, glancing at Miles. He swore he saw a slight smirk play on her lips, but was not too sure. "What makes you think that a dead lawyer would come back to life, Mr. Edgeworth? Aren't you—somewhat of a skeptic—in these matters—since the DL-6 incident years ago?"

Miles glanced away. DL-6 was still fresh in his mind, and the death of his father still hurt, even now. But he did not acknowledge, or deny, what she said. Instead, he continued his thought. " . . .yet, you have the distinguishing features of Mia Fey, with the face and other bodily features . . . but clearly in Miss. Fey's clothing."

"So again, let me ask—what makes you think that I am Mia Fey?"

" . . . Just a hunch, from what Wright is babbling about," Miles stated. "That, and—with being a bit offensive, Maya Fey does not have a huge chest. It's what sticks out the most, actually."

" . . . I swear." She sighed. "You know what my mother is famous for; after all, I was to take her place until I left." The Fey woman took another look around the room, then noticed that the sun was starting to rise. This was the last thing they needed. "Shall we move away from the windows?"

_So—even from the dead, Mia Fey came to see if he was alright. It's good to know that she cares about him. That I don't feel stupid now for being how I am._

_I'll keep her secret—for now, _he decided as he glanced at her. _Besides, who really would believe me, anyway?_

Miles saw that the woman was still holding his hand and felt him trembling, covering him more with the blanket. Noting that he would be going soon in the ambulance, he remembered Phoenix was only in ridiculous Steel Samuari boxers and nodded at the woman's suggestion. "I don't know if that's a good idea, though. He'll lose the warmth that he has at the moment, and –all he has are those ridiculous boxers that I believe Miss. Fey bestowed upon him." _Who else would get him a gift like that? Clearly not his family—or me, for that matter. And that girl is a huge Steel Samurai fan._

_But there's no way in hell he's going in just those. . . . I know. I'm going to regret doing this, but if it keeps him warm . . . then it's worth losing, right?_

Miles moved back over to the bed and pulled him up by the shoulders, removing the blankets that were on Phoenix. He regretted doing that a moment later, because Phoenix shivered horribly again. _Damn it, Phoenix. Give me a minute to at least put something decent on you._ "It's colder outside then in here. If you could hold him up a moment . . . I'll get him at least something warm to wear on his chest so he doesn't actually freeze to death, Miss. Fey." His eyes met hers, trying to not plead with the woman, but he was getting rather close.

The woman, who Miles was going to say was Mia Fey, smiled warmly. " . . . Thank you, Miles. For Nick." With that, she gave Phoenix a squeeze on the hand and helped Miles sit him upright while Phoenix moaned and shivered. "Nick, calm down. It'll be alright."

_Thank god for someone who's calm. I need that right now._ Miles shrugged himself out of his magenta jacket and placed it on Phoenix's shoulders. He then put his left arm into it while Phoenix fought him, trying to pull himself away and failing. "Wright, don't do this now. You'll freeze to death."

The defense attorney's eyes glanced over to Miles and stopped for a moment, allowing his left arm to be placed in the jacket. Mia's hand let his right hand go and Miles put that one in as well. The whole time, Phoenix's glassy gaze stared at Miles, as if trying to piece together something important. This gaze continued as he buttoned up the jacket, hoping to have some warmth stay in his torso so he would stop shivering.

Then he fell as his eyes closed, shivering; a tired sigh escaped his pale face as his head landed on Miles' chest. Miles wrapped his arms around him to steady him and pulled him closer to keep him warm as Mia put the blankets on Phoenix. Appearance be damned. The man was cold to the touch.

"Is Nick alright?" Mia asked.

"No," Miles muttered. Was everyone blind? " . . . it's kind of weird, seeing Wright so . . . " He turned away from him as he heard sirens going off near the window. "Finally."

"Your house. Today was a celebration. Wright is sick. Gumshoe is checking the perimeter and hasn't come back. 25 minutes . . . for an ambulance." She folded her arms, clearly not happy about the situation. "Stay here. I'll rush them in if I have to. Keep Nick safe." With a barrage of things going on in her mind, Mia Fey was out the door, yelling in an ice cold voice towards the sirens that would bring down more than just a divine wrath.

Miles nodded, unable to actually respond as he felt tears trying to make their way down his eyes. He felt something pop out of the blankets that they were under and blearily saw a hand was reaching out again. Touching it, he felt that his fingers were ice cold and Miles fought with himself to keep his composure as he held it softly.

_Miles--what in the hell is going on? This certainly smells like---smell?_ He glanced around the room, smelling something that was off. He guessed that it was the smell of blood from his white tiled kitchen floor and sighed, knowing it would surely stain the linoleim. _But it's not a copper smell. Not . . . smoke?_ His eyes glanced around the room.

_Think, Miles,_ he told himself. _Wright hit the alarm clock. Shortly after that, things went wrong._ He actually thought that maybe it was something to do with the alarm clock, but dismissed it as a fool's idea. Who would be dumb enough to try to leave evidence on a clock, or try anything that---preposterous?

A shake and Miles was jolted out of his thoughts as he still felt Phoenix shivering and covered him again, trying his best to provide the man warmth so he could stay alive. He couldn't get over that--how defenseless Phoenix was. What a pun indeed. The defense attorney . . . defenseless against the very thing that was killing him. Still---

Miles touched Phoenix's head and ran a hand through his bed head, now that no one else was around. _Wright wouldn't remember, after all---I can always deny it later---can't I?_ He just kept stroking his head, trying to stop his shivering, and was surprised to see it working, for the most part.

He looked like a deer in headlights when his front door slammed open and Mia Fey ran into the room, with four EMT nurses behind her, two carrying a stretcher. Miles' hand was still in Phoenix's hair, but that was neither here, nor there.

"We're sorry we're late! There was a traffic accident and--" One stammered, trying to catch her breath.

"25 minutes late is highly unacceptable!" Mia roared. "This man could have _died_."

The ambulance crew ducked their heads as if trying not to meet Mia's death glare as they immediately laid their attentions on one Mr. Phoenix Wright. Then one of them saw the man that was sitting with him and gasped. "Oh shit . . . it's . . . "

"Prosecutor Edgeworth. We're in trouble," someone else muttered.


	4. Arrest

_Ok, this chapter took longer then I expected it to, so here are some notes._

_Thanks to forensicfleur from the LJ community, gyakutensabian, I have now found the poison that will be used for this story, which is deadly nightshade, or belladonna. Chapter two will be edited later this week to reflect that, as well as the rest of the story._

_Lastly, this was a very emotional chapter for me to write, and I would like to thank feyminshin and kikkochan55 from gyakutensaiban for helping me beta out ideas. I also would like to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews. I do appreciate it._

_Special Notes: This is set during **Gyakuten Saiban: Yomigaeru Gyakuten/Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney**. There are spoilers in this story, because it takes place the day after case 4 and before bonus case 5, also known as the DL-6 (case 4) and SL-9 incident (case 5). I would suggest not reading this story if you haven't played either case._

_**Gyakuten Saiban: Yomigaeru Gyakuten/Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney** and all respective characters © Capcom. All original rookies/detectives are © Elizabeth Marion Whittaker. This is fanfiction, and not being made for profit. This is for the fans, by the fans, only._

_Comments and critiques are appreciated. Flames are not._

_Yes, I also write some words like the British. No, I will not correct them ;p_

----------------------

Lana Skye's PT Cruiser

Near Foysintha Street

December 29, 2016

6:14 AM

"How far are you from the crime scene, Watson?" Lana asked as she made a hard right to turn onto Justiane Avenue, irritated that no one was there yet. "Everyone should have been there by now!" Her eyes narrowed as she made an illegal pass around the slow driver behind her. She heard the other honk her horn and give her the finger through the mirror.

_They should have been there. Miles only lives 20 minutes from the precinct. There were at least 3 units within this area that should have been there **before** Watson and I even headed out to the crime scene. So why is no—_

The thought was cut off as she heard a response on her cell phone, it on speakerphone so she could utilize both hands. "I'm on Foysintha Street now, Chief. I'm about to—"

"Are the rookies there?" Lana had no time to hear a play by play. Efficiency was all that mattered. That and finding the evidence that was needed to convict the killer. "If not, I want to know every name of who is working, and I'm sure Chief Gant will have a through talking-to with each one of them."

Suddenly she heard sirens from behind her and smiled as she saw 8 squad cars pulling up close to her. Moving out of the way, she allowed the cops to pass, as she wanted some sort of protection before going into a crime scene. She was not a cop, but she also did not think that she was totally defenseless. Nonetheless, she wanted to make sure that there was firepower in case the killer was still around.

_After all, they're paid to do this sort of work. This isn't in my job description—not anymore._

"The rookies just arrived, Chief."

Lana smirked as she pulled back onto the road and used a left blinker sign to turn into the same direction that the squad cars were going. "I know, Detective. I'll meet you there. I just turned into Foysintha Street now." With that, she grabbed the phone that was on the dashboard and switched it off, hoping that there were no more interruptions before she could park the car and go onto the scene. And she prayed that she had the strength to bring in the man that she looked out for, for all these years.

The woman took a deep breath and parked a bit away from the squad cars, putting her automatic into park as she took the keys out of the car. Grabbing her cell phone, Lana adjusted her metals on her uniform as she opened the car door, noting that it was chilly in the air. It felt somewhat ominous as she shoved the phone into her pocket and grabbed her coat, putting it on before putting the keys into the coat pocket and closing the door.

Without looking back at the car, Lana walked briskly up to the house, hoping that she just could get this over with as soon as possible.

-----------------------------

908 Foysintha Street

(Miles Edgeworth's Bedroom)

6:17 AM

December 29th, 2016

" . . . Shouldn't we be worrying about the half baked guy he's holding?" one of the smaller EMT women asked, pointing to Phoenix. "Doesn't matter that it's the Demon Prosecutor—what matters is that he called."

_At least there's someone sensible in the group. I shouldn't be feared all the time. I'm a nice person. At least, I'd like to think so, anyway. _Miles did not say anything as he took his hand out his hair and glanced over to the crew. "If he lives by the time you get to the hospital, I may just . . . oversee this incident. But get him out of here. He's having a hard time breathing; and take care of him."

The ambulance crew nodded as they lifted the blankets off Phoenix and one took his clammy legs, and the other lifted him out of Miles' lap, onto the stretcher. He saw Phoenix start to convulse again, and so did the rest of the people in the room. Someone went and opened one of his eyes and she sighed. "Looks like an overdose of medicine of some sort. Did he take any pills or anything?"

"No. He had a couple of drinks," Miles told the small woman.

"Did he throw up a lot?"

Miles nodded. "He calmed down shortly afterwards and fell asleep for an hour or two. We left him some orange juice to settle his stomach, though—and I found that he did drink some."

"So it started shortly after consumption?" another one asked as they put him into the ambulance. Then the blonde glanced over to the two who had gone out the door and barked, "Get me some stats on him! NOW! Hook him up to an IV!!"

"Alright!"

Her face turned back to Miles and saw the worry in his eyes. "This doesn't look like alcohol poisoning. I can tell you that much. But we'll find out what happened to your friend. Pray for him." With that, she ran off to the ambulance and had went with the other two nurses to get him to the closest medical facility.

---------------------------

The smell of copper filled her nose as Lana Skye walked into Miles Edgeworth's house, and she covered her nose to stop the overwhelming flood that hit her. _This reminds me too much of—never mind that, Lana. This is not **that** case. Get your head together. _Breathing through her mouth for a moment, the brown eyed woman saw two rookie detectives come from the kitchen and stopped at seeing her. The woman stared at her in admiration, saluting her as she came within three feet of the woman. The young man with her nodded softly, then went back to the kitchen after hearing someone yelling.

"Miss Skye!" the woman greeted her. "We—we didn't realize you were coming!"

Lana regained herself and flipped back the red muffler, along with a few strands of hair. "It doesn't matter. What do you have to report?"

"We're still investigating. We only just arrived at the scene," the girl said softly, hanging her head. "We got lost coming to the house—"

"I don't want excuses, Officer Byrde. I want facts, and I want to know what happened. Now, stop hanging your head and get to it. That won't get anything done," Lana ordered, glancing at the people in the kitchen, who seemed to just be goofing around.

"Yes ma'am!" With that, the woman saluted again and ran off, stepping into the pool of blood, since she was in a hurry to find clues. Her carelessness made Lana sigh and she shook her head. What a morning this was turning out to be.

"Officer Byrde! Do not step in the pool of blood!" she yelled into the kitchen as she walked toward it, knowing it would be a sight inside of there.

The eight rookies all looked at her, a look of fear in their eyes. "Ch—Chief Prosecutor!" one of them exclaimed.

"What have you found?" Lana asked. "Or did you all just arrive, as well as that young lady that just came in?"

None of them answered.

"Have you found Miles Edgeworth?" she asked, hoping that would result in a simple answer. Her impatience grew by the second as they all shook their heads. "Alright—where is Detective Gumshoe?"

"We haven't seen him, ma'am," one of the men answered.

_They're useless, the lot of them. I should have just came down here by myself, with Watson. Speaking of him, where is he? He should have arrived as well—no matter. _Lana shook her head. "Well, look for Detective Gumshoe and Mr. Edgeworth! We need to know as much information as possible about this murder case! And look for ANY suspicious clues! Am I understood?!" she asked, looking at every rookie that was there.

They all nodded meekly.

"Good. Now get to work. Rochester, Witherfield," she said, addressing two female officers with blonde hair. "Get outside and see if you can find Detective Gumshoe. The rest of you, stay in and look for clues. The faster we find the evidence, the faster you all can go do other assignments."

As Rochester and Witherfield ran out of the kitchen, Lana turned around and almost ran into someone that was coming at her. "Excuse me," she said coolly.

The brown haired man looked up and nodded to her. "Chief Prosecutor."

"Where were you at?" she asked him coldly. "The other recruits got—"

"Detective Gumshoe was outside, chasing me, because he thought that I may have been a witness to the murder that's in the house," the man replied disdainfully. "Tactless, if you ask me, but that's why I wasn't here when you arrived. I'm very sorry about that."

"Well, Detective Richardson," Lana replied as she huffed in disgust. "I hope that you have better information then those rookies did when I asked a moment ago."

Richardson sighed as he glanced outside. "Gumshoe is still out there," he muttered. "Says he's trying to find stuff outside. Claims that Mr. Edgeworth told him to, but won't tell me where he is."

"I may have an idea as to where he is," Lana said. "But never mind that. Go attend to those rookies who look like they need direction. And make sure they don't screw up the evidence, Richardson." She gave him a hard stare.

The man nodded. "Yes, ma'am." The man walked off in the direction of the kitchen, beginning to bark orders as he did so.

Lana turned around, knowing that Richardson would at least do a half decent job keeping the recruits in line, and her thought was cut off as she saw two nurses carrying someone on a stretcher. They rushed past her in a hurry, but she had managed to catch a glimpse of the man that was on the stretcher. _So that's Phoenix Wright. It just looks strange, without his trademark hair. It just—he—why was he here, in Miles' house, exactly?_ She asked herself as she took another look at the figures that were going out the main doorway. _Never mind, Lana. You can figure that out when you question Miles._

Her heels clopped on the wooden floor as she walked down the hallway, away from the kitchen to the bedroom. She heard the rookies all the way from where she was, and Richardson's voice yelling at them to do different things. But she paid that no mind as she walked forward to her destination. She picked the door on the left, the one that was open, and stepped into the doorway, a hand on her chest as she heard a voice in the room.

" . . . but what could have happened?" she heard a woman ask. "Just because Nick hit the alarm clock doesn't mean that everything could go wrong, Miles."

_I knew it. He is in here. _

The woman made her way in and adjusted her muffler, trying to regain her own composure as she made a soft sigh. "It seems, Mr. Edge---Miles?" The sight of the prosecutor that she knew made her blink twice as she put her hand on her chest again in shock. "Miles . . ."

_Something clearly happened to him. His eyes are puffy . . . And where is his cravat at? And his jacket, for that matter? _

It was then that she remembered the woman in the room, and she took a good hard look at her. Lana's eyes caught a hold of the magatama first, starting at it for a moment. _Could it be—she's part of the Fey family? But—I thought that Mia had a sister—yes, I remember that much. But is it her?_ She stared again as she saw the woman glance from Miles to herself and nodded to her.

"Chief Prosecutor—"

However, the sentence the woman, who Lana was clearly sure of was part of the Fey family, was interrupted by someone stomping loudly, followed by yelling from behind her. Lana smiled as she heard the familiar yelling, knowing that she would have all the pieces of what happened put together soon.

"I SAID I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING PAL! Mr. Edgeworth—they—"

Lana turned around as she saw Detective Gumshoe trying to pull against the two rookies that were holding his arms back. "You can let him go," she told the two recruits. "I believe the good detective and I have something to discuss." As she saw them let Gumshoe go, she then turned around to face the woman wearing the magatama again, just wondering who she was, exactly.

Once again, Gumshoe's voice cut through her thoughts, this time in a shocked voice as he managed to squeak out, "M-Miss Skye . . . I didn't know that they—"

The woman still looked hard at the figure as she asked, "Did you find anything, Detective?"

The detective stood there as usefully as he could, lowering his head and scratching it. " . . . we're still looking for clues, Miss Skye. All we found so far was a dart in the woman, and that her throat was slit."

"Well, then look harder, Detective Gumshoe," Lana ordered, still glancing from Miles Edgeworth to the unknown Fey woman that was with him. "And make sure those rookies don't screw up anything. I know they're well known for that."

Gumshoe nodded softly as he slowly made his way out of the room, standing near the doorway, making sure Lana's back was still turned so he could hear what was going on. "ALRIGHT, YOU HEARD THE CHIEF! DON'T MESS UP ANYTHING IN MR. EDGEWORTH'S HOUSE, PAL! AND MAKE SURE—"

"Gumshoe!" Lana yelled. "They're only in the next room, which is where you're going, anyway." When she heard footsteps walking away, the woman adjusted her muffler once more, sighing softly as her eyes connected to the blue ones of the Fey woman. ". . . you sound like someone I used to know," Lana replied. "You're part of the Fey family, correct?"

Lana saw the woman nod as she gasped. Then the woman glanced at her and folded her arms, her two strands of black hair crossing over each arm. "How did you know that?"

"Your pendant," Lana confessed. "Someone I used to go to law school with wore it, and explained it was a family heirloom when I asked her what it was."

"These are precious pieces for the Fey women." With that, Lana saw her hand encircle the magatama, and squeezed it for support. "I didn't know Sis went to school with you."

_As I thought, she did have a sister._ "Now, who are you, exactly?" she asked softly.

She clasped her hands together around the magatama as she answered the question. "My name is Maya Fey . . . and I work with Nick."

" . . . Nick?" Lana inquired.

" . . . Wright," Miles supplied.

Lana glanced over to Miles, noticing that it was the first thing he had said since she had come into the room. She noticed that he still was staring at the bed, and wondered what happened before she came into the room. "Phoenix Wright? The victim?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. I work with him." The woman let the magatama go as Lana turned her eyes back to her, folding her arms over her chest once more. "I rushed here as soon as I heard something was wrong."

"Were you here at the time the incident occurred?" Lana asked her. It was hard to not notice how her eyes darted around from Miles Edgeworth to herself as she took her time answering the question. _Something definitely is amiss._ "Well?"

Her blue eyes closed as she nodded once. "Yes. But I just got here a few minutes ago, right before the paramedics took Nick away."

"I see." The shock of seeing a woman that resembled Mia Fey seemed to wear off as she glanced over to Miles Edgeworth. "I hate to do this, Mr. Edgeworth—but we found no witnesses and no possible clues to the crime. You know what this means."

" . . . there's no way you could think that I—in my own house—" Miles was in shock, and it was clear in his eyes as he turned to look at Lana.

"Despite that, there is no evidence here that can tell us this, Miles," Lana said softly. "I'm afraid we have to take you in for questi—"

"No witnesses?!" Gumshoe yelled, interrupting her sentence once again. Lana was starting to hate that as she heard what Gumshoe was yelling about. "What do you mean, pal! Did you look around the perimeter of the house?!"

She finally looked behind her to find that Detective Gumshoe was back at the door, rubbing his head again. "Mr. Gumshoe, if you—"

"We did, sir, but we didn't find anything! Please stop yelling at us!" a high pitched voice of one of the rookies yelled. "Detective Richardson is outside with four of them now, but they haven't found anything!"

"Well get out there then, Price! We got enough in here looking for clues!" Gumshoe said with an angry look on his face as the officer stepped back from him.

"Yes sir!" he said as he ran off, trying to make it before he was yelled at more.

"And make sure you look for anything, Price! We can't just leave evidence lying around!"

"YES SIR!"

Lana sighed softly as she glanced to the detective who turned around and stared at her. "You're taking the boss in?" His face looked to Miles, who still was staring at the bed. "I know he's the only witness you got, but—"

"Detective Gumshoe. I have no need to let my personal feelings interfere with my job," Lana spat out as she saw the detective hanging his head. "And stop that. This is a crime scene. You know that our job is to only find out the truth. If Miles Edgeworth was here this entire time, he is a key to finding out the truth."

"But you can't just—" Gumshoe muttered, looking at her. "There's . . . there's gotta be clues, Ms. Skye! We . . . we haven't . . . " Gumshoe looked to Miles, then to Lana. "We need . . . need to examine . . ."_were_ investigating, Detective." She folded her arms across her chest as she glared back at him.

Gumshoe lowered his head more. "I—I was Miss Skye, but I was examining the perimeter . . . and none of the other police force had made it yet . . . and—"

"Nonetheless, we need t—" A look of shock passed in Lana's face and a gasp came from her mouth as she felt something brush past her and her hair visibly blew forward by a few strands. "Oh my." Her hand flew to her chest as she saw a dart emerge three inches from Edgeworth's head and stuck to the wall.

"What is it, Miss Skye?" the woman with the magatama asked as she saw where Lana was staring at. "Oh! Are you alright, Mr. Edgeworth?"

The man took a shaky breath as he looked out of the corner of his eye to see the normal dart embedded in the drywall, right near his ear. " . . . yeah."

From behind, a black haired officer laughed as he covered his mouth. "Sorry, I kind of missed the dartboard . . . "

"HEY! RASSMUTEN!" Gumshoe screamed, now taking over the scene. "NO PLAYING WITH MR. EDGEWORTH'S DARTBOARD!" As he walked over to him, the rookie ran off into the kitchen to get away from Gumshoe's fury. "Ms. Skye . . . the investigation team is . . . "

"One more outburst—OR PLAYING WITH THE EVIDENCE—" Lana shouted turning around to make sure everyone heard her, "—and you will all be on suspension. _Permanently._"

There were mutters in the other room, but no one raised any objections as Lana turned back around to face Miles Edgeworth, who was still shaken about a dart nearly taking off his ear. _I'm sorry, Miles. I wish I didn't have to do this . . . but . . . _

_You are the only witness here. And that means I have to bring you in._

"Miles Edgeworth, I'm going to have to take you to the precinct for questioning. Do you--"

"I won't say anything unless I have a lawyer present, Miss Skye," Miles told her. "I know how it goes—you may forge evidence against me, or against the statements I would make, were I to provide them. I know you're not von Karma, but—you _were_ in charge of what evidence you had let him have, correct?" His voice dripped with venom as he saw Lana gasp at his accusation. "You can take me, but I want a lawyer."

"And you know no lawyer will take your case, Mr. Edgeworth," Lana told him. "The only one who would possibly take your case is having convulsions in an ambulance. Now, if you're not going to cooperate, I'll have to arrest you for the murder of that maid and attempted murder on Phoenix Wright."

"I told you. I won't talk unless there's an attorney present, Miss Skye."

Lana sighed heavily. "Then I have no choice." From behind her, she pulled out a pair of handcuffs and grabbed Miles' arms, hooking them to his wrists. "Miles Edgeworth, you are under arrest for the murder of the maid and placed on charges for the attempted murder on Phoenix Wright. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—"

"I know all that," Miles snapped as he glared at her. "Just get on with it."

"Miss Skye—you can't just arrest him like this!" the other woman interjected as she made a move to reach for Miles, but stopped when Lana's eyes met hers coldly. "You don't even—"

"M-Miss Skye . . . !" Gumshoe's voice came from the door as his footsteps hammered on the wooden floor. "Boss—"

"Please . . . what about N-- Mr. Wright?" Blue eyes pleaded as they saw into Lana's cold ones. "You have to think about him as well. He just—"

"Mr. Wright," Lana replied, "is why I am doing this. I cannot allow the suspect of a murder to go wandering free. We must find out the truth."

"But you can tell Mr. Edgeworth had nothing to do with it!" she protested. "Please—"

Lana's eyes darted to the woman that was still standing there, her eyes closed while she gripped her arms and glanced at the floor.

_As much as I would like to acquiescence to that request—why . . . if it was under different circumstances, perhaps . . ._ Then she looked to Gumshoe. _Lana. Focus. You can't let things like personal bias get in the way. It has no place here._ "Go look around and bring ANYTHING suspicious. And tell those idiots to not touch the evidence. If you screw up just once, I'm pulling you from the investigation."

"Yes, Ms. Skye . . ." Gumshoe muttered, and then saluted her as he took a deep breath. "I'll make sure to do a good job SIR!" Glancing once more at Edgeworth, he then ran off into the kitchen, his feet hammering again into the floor as he bellowed, "GET TO WORK ROOKIES! Don't even think about slacking off!"

"C-can we get an escort, just to check on Nick?" Maya Fey asked, glancing up nervously under Lana Skye's gaze. " . . . Mr. Edgeworth hasn't . . . run away . . . "

"True, if Mr. Edgeworth did do it, he certainly wouldn't be here now---unless he wishes to confess his guilt. This is very out of character for him, if he was the murderer. And to answer your previous question, Miss Fey, I'm afraid it's against protocol to allow a suspect to be let free without questioning. Mr. Edgeworth will be able to check on him once he answers some questions, if he cooperates," she said, looking at him.

Miles glanced over at both women, the fire leaving his eyes from the glare he had given Lana. "Miss Fey . . ."

"She can come down to the precinct with the good detective and answer some questions for us, since she was here before we were at the scene. Not during the murder, but can attest to Mr. Wright's state." With that, she pushed Miles in the back as she directed him out his bedroom door and glanced briefly back to his companion before looking forward again, her eyes closing for just a moment.

_I'm just doing my job, Miles. No matter how much I don't want to do this—I have no choice. Of that, I am sorry._

She was met by Richardson when she got to the kitchen and a glum looking Gumshoe as she stopped Miles, holding into the handcuffs. "Take him down to the precinct, Richardson. I'll meet you down there, as soon as I wrap things up here."

The man nodded as his matching eyes bored down at Miles Edgeworth. "Right away, Chief." He took Lana's position and pushed the man forcefully out of the room, Miles not putting up so much as a struggle. Lana saw Gumshoe just watching and sighed, scratching his head.

"Well, go get Miss Fey, Detective Gumshoe," Lana ordered. "We need her too, you know. And be careful with her. She seems to be quite distressed that we just arrested Mr. Edgeworth. She might—"

" . . . right, pal. I get it. But Maya Fey—she's alright. She'll come with us, without any trouble. Even when she's distressed, she's the type that has hope. And I hope she's got some to offer," the detective muttered as he walked back toward the bedroom, with Lana watching his shoulders droop. Then she shook her head and followed Richardson out of the house, to make sure that she would be at the precinct before Richardson so she could get things in order.

There was still a report to start, after all—and she knew that Chief Gant would want her to do that, because she had to prosecute the case, now that Miles Edgeworth could not. And that made Lana's heart sink most of all, knowing that the person she looked out for like a younger brother . . . would be put on the stand the next day, and she would have to do everything to try to make him guilty.


	5. Interrogational Surprises

It's been more than a year since I have updated. I must confess that I had two jobs after I started this story. I also have had a lot of real life drama unfold, which resulted from a severe writers block.

Also, my beta seems to have disappeared for this story—and I just found our notes for it. Hopefully she'll still come back to help me, since it was really fun to do with her.

To all those patiently waiting, this is an extra long chapter. I do hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Four: Interrogational Surprises

Detention Center

Interrogation Room

December 29, 2016

8:29 AM

Miles Edgeworth glared at the detective who was questioning him, annoyed that they had even brought him into the precinct for questioning, despite Gumshoe's warning. Arms folded across his chest, he gave a half hearted sigh as he looked away a moment later, holding his arm. "I told you all I know. You're asking the same questions you asked me an hour ago. Or a few minutes ago, for that matter." His leg was restless as he tried to get comfortable in the chair he was sitting in, resting his arms on the table.

"Come on," the man said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "You mean to tell me that your nurse—"

"Housemaid," Edgeworth objected. "Andrea was my housemaid. I paid her for keeping the house clean."

"—**and** Mr. Wright were in the same place, and that you know nothing about these occurrences?" The questioner raised an eyebrow at him as he looked at his notes from the clipboard, putting it on the table to stare at Miles. "You of all people would have something against Phoenix Wright, wouldn't you, Mr. Edgeworth?" Now it was his turn to glare at the prosecutor. "You can't tell me this was by coincidence. You had to—"

"That's enough, Detective," a female voice shot out from the door that was opening. "If you don't mind, I'll take it from here."

Edgeworth glanced over to the door and groaned, recognizing the voice of Lana Skye.

"Miss. Skye, you can't say that--"

"Detective Richardson. You know full and well I can order you around as I wish. Now, go before I have you put on suspension for badgering a potential suspect in a murder." She glared at him as the detective got up and began to walk to the door. "Also, take a look at the report that is on your desk and check that out. That is all."

"But Detective Gumshoe ordered me to take this case, since the Chief of Police threw him off of it!" Richardson fumed, going up to her and staring at her with angry brown eyes. "Are you going to dispute—"

"Detective Gumshoe," Lana Skye spat out as she crossed her arms, "is just a thorn in Chief Gant's side. He's been put to work on—other duties. Now, get out, before I fire you for insubordination, Richardson."

Richardson had glared at her one more time before briskly walking past her and leaving the room, muttering under his breath and running a hand through his brown hair.

Lana Skye looked melchanoly as she glanced over to Miles Edgeworth. "I see you still aren't cooperating, Mr. Edgeworth," she said. "Tell me, what are you doing in the precinct so soon after being proved innocent against the murder of Richard Hammond?" She took a seat where Richardson was sitting and cracked her neck a moment, it being stiff. Lana adjusted the muffler once more as she met Miles's eyes, putting a hand on the table.

Miles looked away, refusing to answer.

"Look, Mr. Edgeworth. We can't let you leave until we get a statement from you. You've been here for two hours and so far, you won't talk until you get to talk to an attorney." Lana's eyes looked grave as she slammed her hand on the table, startling Edgeworth. "But unless you talk, we can't help Mr. Wright at all."

Phoenix's last name seemed to bring hope back into the prosecutor's eyes. "Wright? Is he—"

"They won't tell us anything yet," Lana confessed, glancing away. "Mr. Edgeworth—for what it's worth . . . I have to ask—did you attempt to kill Mr. Wright?"

"Again, I refuse the right to answer that, Miss Skye." Edgeworth sighed as he glared at her. "That will show in the evidence, I believe."

" . . . they believe that your prints are on the knife that was used to murder Miss Turn." Lana sighed softly as she saw the realization hit Edgeworth's eyes. "You are as good as convicted of murder of Andrea Turn and the attempted murder of Phoenix Wright, Miles. Unless you talk, I'm afraid I can't even let you out on bail. I'll have to book you."

" . . . no," Miles whispered, then buried his head in his hands. He could feel the weight of everyone that he knew slam down on him. Maya Fey, who was so sure that Miles had not murdered Richard Hammond, would be the first one to scream at him about how he had hurt Phoenix. Larry Butz, who would cry at the sight of Phoenix in the hospital, and then proclaim on how he changed, and that he was afraid that Edgeworth would murder him next. Or even Mia Fey, who he knew Maya could channel into her own body? They all would be on him.

Not to mention that Manfred von Karma would be laughing in the jail cell that he was being held in when he heard this news. And at the thought of being placed with the murderer of his real father, Miles shivered and just cried, weeping openly. He forgot that his boss was even in the room as he thought of everything that had happened within the last week; the fact that Phoenix made him happy was the only thing that lingered in his mind.

It was the one thing that was keeping him somewhat sane . . . even if Miles felt like he was completely falling apart. His shoulders shook as he sobbed, trying to will himself to force back the tears that he was crying. _But why am I crying?_ He asked himself as he felt a tear drop run down his finger. _Is it over Wright? Over the fact that I'm here once again, as a suspect? Or is it the fact that I truly haven't grieved over my father, and that I never got to say goodbye? That damn nightmare---_

_It's playing over and over in my head, and I can hear von Karma laughing at me, knowing I knew nothing about the role he played. If I'm convicted—if I'm in the same cell as him—he'll kill me._

" . . . Miles?"

He hurried to compose himself, hoping that Lana was lost in her thoughts and did not see him break down so easily. How his reputation would suffer then. Miles Edgeworth, Demon Prosecutor, actually having feelings.

Miles sighed heavily. He grew tired of this questioning. But he did manage to whisper one word, still regaining his—himself. " . . . no."

" . . . you didn't do any of that to Mr. Wright, did you, Miles?" Lana tried again, her voice soft as she tried asking again, unclear as to what Miles was saying no to.

"No." Miles glanced over at her and saw Lana nod.

"I'm afraid we need more details," Lana told him gently. "I may be inclined to let you go on bail if I get enough information." She reached to put a hand on his shoulder, but Miles shook his head. "And by the way—get that fluffy collar back on your neck. You look undignified without it on, Miles."

"I feel undignified, Miss Skye, knowing that even you can't call it by its true name," Miles muttered, sniffling as he was handed a tissue. Gratefully, he took it and blew his nose for a moment before throwing it away in the trash can next to him. "So what did you want to know?"

"What else is there to say, Mr. Edgeworth?" He saw her tighten the muffler a bit more, it falling over her shoulders. He hated when she did that. It usually meant she was annoyed with the situation.

This was confirmed as she folded her arms to look at him, a sad look passing her eyes.

_I do not need her pity. I don't need her compassion. I may be falling apart, but the last thing I want is for Miss Skye to actually think that she needs to feel sorry for me. If I can get out of being guilty for murder once—I'm pretty sure I can do it again._

_I hope._

His eyes bored at Lana and he sighed. "Then why are you here, wasting your time, and mine? We both know you have other things to be doing, such as preparing for other cases."

"Because I cannot leave until I at least hear you tell me what happened. So let's start with what you _say_ happened." Again, her eyes glared at him, but some of the pity left her eyes. "I have no time to waste with trivial things—however, the department is taking this case very seriously. Therefore, we have to have all the facts before actually proceeding with the trial tomorrow."

_. . . It's going to be her,_ Miles told himself. _I have this unsettling feeling that she's going to prosecute tomorrow._ But he nodded and took a deep breath. "Alright. But I better not have to repeat myself after this, Miss Skye."

Lana smiled coldly as she flipped back her muffler. "For someone who's the main suspect in a murder and attempted one, I don't think you have the right to make those kinds of requests. But it's nice to see you going back to your old self, for what it's worth. So, from the beginning, Miles?" It seemed like she was trying to hide back a chuckle.

_. . . back to my old self, huh._ "I only said that cause Richardson, I think it was—"

"I'm well aware. He's not the brightest crayon in the box, as the analogy goes. But they threw Gumshoe off the—"

Miles glared at her, arms folded and wagging a finger. "I'm aware. His connections."

Lana nodded. "Personal, you see. I understand the detective and you have a 'close, working relationship', as Gumshoe likes to call it." At her description, she put her first and second fingers down on both hands to quote. "But that is neither here, nor there. From the beginning, if you please."

Miles put his arms down and held his temple on his left side, trying to recall everything that happened. After a moment, and an unsettling feeling later, the prosecutor began. "Last night, after the trial was over, we went out to dinner."

"Dinner?" Lana questioned. "Aren't you—"

"Gumshoe's idea," Miles cut her off. "After all, I had _just_ got out of jail." He was rather testy, bringing that point up.

Her eyes glared at him as she said, "Continue, Mr. Edgeworth. Who went with you, on this expedition, since it seems to have some importance to the case at hand."

"It was Detective Gumshoe, myself, Mr. Wright, Mr. Butz and Miss Fey."

"Where was it that you went?" Lana inquired, curious as to the company he was keeping. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought. "You went out with the good attorney, his assistant, an unknown man that clearly is acquaintances with you, and the detective? Am I right so far?"

Miles nodded. "Mr. Butz used to go to school with Wright and myself. He also was just cleared of murder in August for the murder of Cindy Stone. You would know him if you saw him. He's kind of hard . . . to miss," Miles put lamely, waving his hand to dismiss the conversation. "Anyway we had a few rounds to drink—"

"You did not answer as to where you went to," Lana reminded him gently.

"Rivanila's, that new Italian restaurant near the courthouse."

"Little pricey," Lana smirked. "And how did—"

"Can we get back to the case at hand?" Miles snapped. "It doesn't matter where I was that night—it matters that my kitchen floor now has to be replaced because it has blood staining the linoleum, along with a woman that was just murdered, and another who is in the hospital! The murder scene was there, not at the restaurant!"

"Miles Edgeworth," Lana said coolly, slamming her hand on the table. "I understand that you're tense, and rather frustrated. And that you're used to being in my position, questioning the witnesses." She pushed her muffler back in place as she still glared at him. "But _I _am the one asking the questions in this case, not you. Either answer the questions that I'm asking, or I'll walk out and have them book you, since all the evidence already points to you."

Miles' glare made Lana push her chair back a bit, but he nodded as he still held his temple. _God, my head hurts. I can feel a migraine coming on. _ "Alright."

"What happened after you left the restaurant, which I assume was with this—party, that you were with?"

"Detective Gumshoe offered to take Miss Fey home before the rest of us left, since he had to be back here early in the morning, as you already know. They left a little after 11 that night."

"So that left you, Mr. Butz and Mr. Wright left?"

" . . . that's right."

Lana took out a notepad from her pocket and a pen and started jotting down some notes. "And then, what?"

_. . . this is really making me nervous,_ Miles thought, but did not let anything show in his face. In fact, his tone took on an expression of boredom as he closed his eyes a moment. "Well, we stayed there, because they had a bar, you understand. It was Larry's idea, really, since he thought we all should 'celebrate', with the others being gone and it being a 'reunion' of sorts."

"Larry being Mr. Butz, right?"

Miles nodded.

Lana put a hand to her forehead. "You're not talking about that witness in your case who worked at the park, are you?" Her voice heightened in anxiety as she finished the question.

A smirk played on the corner of Miles' lip. "The same."

"Oh god." Lana glanced away and Miles knew she was thinking of how she was going to control the man long enough to use him as a witness. " . . . he wasn't there when the murder took place, was he?"

"No."

Lana's face relaxed, sighing in relief. "Very well. So what time do you think you got out of the restaurant?"

"Well . . . they closed at three, so we got out of there then." Miles had to think a moment before continuing, tapping his temple. God, it hurt. "Wright had a lot to drink. We all did, in all honesty. Three glasses of champagne and a Guinness were enough for me."

"I never thought you the type to drink cheap liquior," Lana remarked before writing some more down. "So how much did Wright have?"

"I'm not sure of what he had, since I didn't pay attention. It only caught my attention after he needed help walking out. Butz seemed fine, but that doesn't say much. He could be fine after a train wreck, and still be smiling and cracking a joke." His face wrinkled in disgust as he thought about how true the statement was. "But we helped him out and he kind of threw up in a trash can."

Lana's nose wrinkled. " . . . Wright clearly can't handle liquior, can he?"

_That has no relevance to the case . . . but well, everyone knew after the third drink._ Yet Miles knew any more flippant comments would only result in upsetting Lana more and just shook his head once. "Apparently, not. But that is not here, nor there."

The prosecutor took another breath and closed his eyes as he talked again. "Since he clearly could not find his way to the train station, Butz and I decided to accompany him, in case something happened." Miles paused as he opened his eyes, seeing her jot down some more and flipping a page.

"I see. Continue, Miles." The pen tapped on the paper in irritation as her eyes met his.

"Upon leaving the train station, Mr. Wright threw up in a trash can again, but had passed out, so I took him home so that he could recover. I had no idea where his house was. It took me another hour to order a taxi to get back to my home, because I couldn't have driven, since I just got out of jail." He glanced away. "I think we got in around 4:45 in the morning. It was 5:45 when everything happened. I only remember that because Wright hit the alarm clock and he argued that it shouldn't have been set when I had no cases today."

Lana closed her eyes as she took this last bit of information down and let her brown eyes look into Miles' dark ones. " . . . Mr. Edgeworth."

_She's going to ask why I took him home in the first place. I can see this coming—because I would ask the same thing._

"Why . . . why didn't you have Larry Butz take Mr. Wright home?" She put her hand back on her forehead and glanced away.

"Because he had got off four stops before I did with Wright, Miss Skye," Miles answered.

"So what made you think to take Wright back to your home?" she asked again, in a different matter. "Honestly, Mr. Edgeworth, this all points against you, and builds the case that you intentionally wanted to—"

" . . . honestly, Miss Skye," Miles muttered as his eyes slammed shut, the pain in his temple growing by the accusation. "I'm sure you're aware now, since Butz proclaimed it in the lobby after the case, that we were friends since the fourth grade. I just wanted to make sure something didn't happen to the man."

"Still, it all points to you, you know."

" . . . I know." Miles opened his eyes as he looked at her piercing stare. "But why would you think I did it, if I just got proven innocent yesterday?"

"Really, Mr. Edgeworth—haven't you learned anything from the cases that you've worked on in the last few years?"

The man blinked in surprise at her question. "What relevance—"

"Where do things like _'personal bias'_ belong?"

He stopped as her eyes turned cold and she flicked back some of her hair, folding her arms. Her lips were in a tight line, showing the disappointment in Miles' thought. "You should know this best of all, Mr. Edgeworth. Personal bias is just that. It has no relevance to a prosecutor's case. It could be why you failed all those cases against Mr. Wright." The woman put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Irrelevance is not our forte, Miles."

"I know that," the man growled softly. "But honestly," he muttered as he glanced away— "It would be a ghastly idea to even contemplate such a scenario. Because he destroyed my reputation that I would do something like this. Despite how many times that _has_ happened, it doesn't make me want to do something like this to him. In fact, Pho--I mean, Mr. Wright is---"

_Just what is he to me? _Miles asked himself as he covered his mouth slightly, regaining his composure. " . . .forgive me, Miss Skye. I didn't mean to ramble like that."

_Oh great going, Miles. Now she'll definitely think you did it because your nerves aren't in check._

"Mr. Edgeworth." Lana Skye tightened her grip on his shoulder. "All of this only builds the case around you. I can only imagine . . . " She trailed, trying to think.

" . . .your . . . ungraceful state." she finished more than a moment's hesitation later.

* * *

Criminal Affairs

Holding Cells

December 29, 2016

8:52 AM

It had only been an hour and a half since the whole incident took place, but Maya's nerves were on edge since Edgeworth and Gumshoe had been taken away. The police had taken her as well, and she wondered what she was supposed to be doing here. She heard voices outside, and knew that they were talking about the events of this morning. Hadn't she answered enough questions about the murder and Mr. Edgeworth's state of mind?

Her stomach then rumbled. It fought with her on not being fed at all this morning. Maya sighed and wished that she could call Nick to bring her a hamburger. She did not even know why she wanted hamburgers lately, but Nick seemed to scrape by well enough to even keep her fed. That was a change.

_Nick . . . I wonder how he is. I sure hope he's okay . . . _

Her eyes glanced around and noticed that nothing had changed in the holding cells. In fact, Maya had wondered if this is was the same one that she had visited when she was in jail for the murder of Mia Fey. _Do they realize that if they wash the walls, that this place may smell a bit more pleasant? But what does my opinion matter? Prison isn't supposed to smell good, I guess._

She heard footsteps approaching and glanced wearily at the familiar blue uniform that was approaching. "Miss. Fey?"

Maya sat up straighter, if that was even possible on the little bench that was in the cell. "Yes?"

"I do apologize for having to put you in this cell, but Ms. Skye is in there with Mr. Edgeworth. It was a necessary precaution, you understand." She saw the man adjust his badge and caught that his name was Watson. She also recognized him as one of the officers at Mr. Edgeworth's home. However, she noted that his blonde hair was greasy and could do with having a shower. "You are free to go now."

_Necessary, my—_As much as Maya wanted to tell him what to do with his statement, she put on a smile and nodded. "Of course, I do understand. But can I talk to Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I'm sorry, but he cannot have any visitors at this time. Ms. Skye has requested solitary confinement until the case is scheduled for tomorrow. The only person who can see him is his attorney."

"Do they understand that Nick—"

"Mr. Wright is under 24 hour survelliance by the police department, Miss. Fey. I cannot allow you to see him. Her orders, not mine." His face almost looked sympathetic as Maya's was crushed and hung her head. He patted her shoulder gently. "You know, I'm not supposed to tell you which hospital he's in, but Mr. Edgeworth was a pretty decent guy to me."

Maya's ears perked up at this new information. "Really?"

Watson nodded. He looked around the room, peered behind him, and then cupped his hand to whisper in Maya's ear. "Well, he's held at West Mercy. You know where that is, right?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, he's being treated there. If you can get in, good luck to you, Miss. Fey."

She glanced at him. "Thanks. I really do appericate it."

"Take care, Miss. Fey. And . . . I do hope that Mr. Wright does make it through this. He's a great guy." Watson turned around and sighed as he put his hat back on and unlocked the door. "You're free to go," he reiterated.

Maya smiled, but still felt rather glum about the whole situation. But, a smile killed any depression that lurked around. "Thank you, Officer Watson," she told him. "When can I come back to see Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Probably tomorrow morning. However, I would suggest getting a lawyer for him. He will need a good attorney, with Ms. Skye being the prosecutor in this case."

Maya winced inwardly, but did not let it show. "I see. I'll try to see if someone will represent him." _Ugh . . . I may not have a choice. What would Mia do, if she was in this fix?_ As she walked off, Maya adjusted the beads on either side of her thin strands of black hair. _Sis would fight, that's what!_

_I have to do that too! Mr. Edgeworth didn't do it, and Detective Gumshoe and I know it! But . . . how do we find the evidence that he didn't?_

Her strength renewed, she decided to head out and get something to eat before trying to tackle the hospital, to see if Nick was alright. After all, without food, Maya Fey could not have the strength to face what was ahead. She also decided that she'd come back later anyway, to see if Gumshoe could tell her anything in particular.

* * *

Criminal Affairs

Chief Gant's Office

December 16, 2016

8:52 AM

Detective Gumshoe glanced behind him as he looked around for any sign of the detective that was giving him a hard time before. He wondered why it was that suddenly Lana Skye was giving Richardson priority in this case, and casting his own opinions aside. Him, who had been there prior to all those detectives, who were not doing their job accurately. _Sometimes, I wonder if any of them care about the Boss. But then again, they're not always getting their salary cut._

He remembered the nights that he was in his apartment, as bare as it was—trying to scrape some change aside for some instant ramen that he had needed for a meal that day. He had learned to not ask the others for a few dollars—he was like the black sheep of the force. But he was surprised when his own boss had stopped by and had a box of food in it for him.

"_Don't think this'll happen often."_ He remembered the snide remark from Miles Edgeworth, but saw in his eyes the hurt that was in them. _"You'd think they'd treat one of your own better."_

After he had left that day, Gumshoe had always tried his hardest to do his job well, hoping that he would get recognized for his hard work. An average joe, his reviews were not the most stellar. In fact, they always said he had needed inprovement.

Then, one day—he was called into Chief Gant's office, just like now. He had wondered then what he had wanted. When he had walked in that day, he was told that he was to report to Miles Edgeworth, who worked at the prosecutors office. When he had met him that day, he had recognized him as the man who had been to his apartment that day.

That day was four years ago. Since that day, Gumshoe had done his best to try to live to Edgeworth's standards. Most of the time, the police had either taken his paychecks for mistakes, or had cut some of his pay—but his boss did provide when he needed it most of the time.

Now, he was heading to Chief Gant's office again. Only this time, he had a feeling that he was about to hear some very unwelcome news. As he touched the doorknob, he had overheard Lana Skye talking with Gant. He stopped as he had heard them.

"But, don't you think that oaf would be suspicious if he was taken off this case so soon, Gant? You can't just do that because—" Lana's voice interjected.

A hmph. Then, "Lana, dear—I can do any damn thing I want. Remember who got you your position. Do you really want me to tell everyone about how you almost left your sister high and dry in _that_ case?" His hand slammed against the table. "I don't need any of Worthy's lackies or that other attorney's friends finding out about what we're doing. That oaf will definitely find out. You can't turn a good guy, no matter how many tricks you have."

Gumshoe stopped dead in his tracks. What was he going to do? He knew they were obviously talking about him. To think that they actually thought that he was going to talk was –well, was about right. He had no choice now, after hearing that he was going to be taken off the case.

"Chief—don't you think you should try to at least find out what Gumshoe—"

"You _sound like you're on Worthy's side," _Gant said to Lana. "What did I tell you about personal bias, Skye? Do you really think I need you, if you're going to start relying on your personal opinion. You know what I can do to you if you don't cooperate."

He saw through the crack in the keyhole that Lana jumped. Nervously, she replied, "Y—yes, sir. Of course. You're right."

"Get that oaf in here so that I can tell him he'll be thrown off the case."

One hard click of her heel. "Yes, sir. I'll tell him myself, if it is no trouble."

A huff again. "Of course. Just _**do it**_, Skye. And bring Richardson, Watson and Rassumen into my office, immediately. I'll have to assign a new task force."

Gumshoe paled. He knew that since he was now off the force, he would no longer have any means to actually help Edgeworth. He had thought of giving the evidence he found to Lana, but now he was not sure. _Just which side is she actually on? Is she on the Boss's or is she on the Chief's? It sounds like she's stuck._ No. He had decided that he would not supply any evidence to her. Even if she asked for it.

No matter how much she was threathened, he knew that Phoenix Wright would get him out, when he was well enough to be out of the hospital. Until then, Maya and him would have to stall for time. They could do it for a day—right?

Moving quickly away from the door, Gumshoe had ducked into the next hallway as Lana came out, a pissed off look on her face. But then, he also saw the sadness that lurked in her eyes, and decided that she was indeed trapped, trying try her own way to get out as well.

_Just like a caged rat—just like the Boss. She likes him well enough—but I hope she does the right thing, right, pal?_

After she left, he went to his car, trying to piece his thoughts together.

* * *

Criminal Affairs

Main Hallway of Police Unit

December 29, 2016

8:59 AM

Officer Bryde stepped into the hallway where her partner Dustin Prince was, with a glum look in her eyes. She knew in her heart somehow that Miles Edgeworth was not guilty. Still, she could not help but think that somehow, everyone had overlooked something before trying to make Edgeworth the victim. "This doesn't look good . . . everything points to Mr. Edgeworth being guilty."

Dustin sighed. "We have to tell them what we know, Maggey."

Rassmuten, the other blonde guard, came in behind them and looked upset as well. "There has to be something to point to Mr. Edgeworth's innocence. I hear he still doesn't have a defense attorney."

" . . . " Maggey just looked at Rassmuten. "Nonetheless, I feel sorry for Gumshoe. Man, he'll be really upset when they convict him tomorrow." _Gumshoe'll be really upset. He really looks up to that man. I can understand why he thinks he didn't do it . . . _

_But everything's--_

"Enough," Dustin said. "Here comes Miss Skye."

With her left hand behind her back, Lana Skye walked into the room with her muffler trailing behind her. "I hear all of you have a lot to say about this case."

"Well, how can you think Mr. Edgeworth did it?" Another officer said as she walked in, throwing down a bag with the knife on the desk. "Don't you think it's a bi...odd?"

_Well, that is a bit odd, but everyone has thrown their hearts into a guilty verdict. Of course, we would root for our own . . . _Her eyes peered to the doorway as she saw Gumshoe standing there, listening. _Perhaps I should just listen for now. Poor Gumshoe. Everyone's against him right now . . . _

Lana readjusted her muffler, giving the officers in front of her a hard stare. "I don't care what people think. We have a case that is to be decided by evidence that can decide the truth. Not someone's _ideal_ of justice." She said, folding her arms. She put a hand on her hip, clearly annoyed.

"The evidence does bring "proof beyond a reasonable doubt, Miss Skye," Dustin Prince said as he gave her the medical chart from the hospital. "And this is the chart on the to-be victim."

_Dustin, can't you see that he didn't—_But Maggey just stayed quiet as she watched Lana, determining what her actions would depict.

Lana took a look at the chart, tapping her chin. "So he was poisoned. Belladona. Determined time of poisoning is around 5-6am? Still the time he was in Mr. Edgeworth's house then. Hmm." She said, her case growing all the more stronger. She turned to Rassmuten and Maggey. "And did you find anything else while I was gone? What about Richardson?" She paused as she anxiously glanced around. "Where's Gumshoe, for that matter?"

Maggey sighed softly. "I haven't seen Richardson, Ms. Skye. Or Detective Gumshoe." _That should cover you for a while, Dick._

"Well, someone find Richardson!"

"I'm Right here," Richardson called as he walked in. "I just got back from the crime scene."

_How can he be so cool about walking into a crime scene when he's—_

Her eyes met his cool ones and she saw that Richardson was smirking. The way that his smile was and the way that his eyes looked—Maggey thought that there was some dark intention that was hidden. _Something just doesn't feel right._

Lana turned to the source of the voice, nodding her head. "Ah, Richardson. Perfect timing." She gave a look to the other officers, except to Prince. "Some officers here have some debatable opinions on this case. I'd like to hear yours, and any other things you'd like to present?"

"Well, I am certain that the evidence will present itself," he said. "But here are some of the things you asked for." With that, he put a bag with glasses down on the desk, along with a pitcher.

"Interesting, Detective." She said with apparent approval, bending down to examine the glasses and pitcher at eye level. "These definitely look like something that Miles Edgeworth would own. I would expect nothing less. This is . . . this is pristine. Simple, elegant. Edgeworth's." Then, she glanced at Richardson again. "Any fingerprints?"

Richardson handed her a folder. "Along with the autopsy report."

"No wonder he's leading," Rassmuten commented quietly. "We're still trying to get the fingerprints on that knife, though. They said it wouldn't be ready till tomorrow."

Lana Skye thanked him quietly as she browsed through the pages with Superman-like reading reflexes. "Poisoned. Sedated. Stabbed. The poor thing . . ."

The prosecutor closed her eyes and folded her arms, moving her head to get some bangs out of her face. "Is this all the evidence for tomorrow's case?"

Maggey shook her head. _Of all the times—_ She was jolted out of her thoughts as she felt Dustin grab something out of her hand. "Ah—"

"There's also this picture." With that, Dustin presented the photo of the bloody handprints.

_I guess he can't help it—it is his job . . . but I thought that at least Gumshoe was his friend . . . _Still, Maggey could not help but feel a bit dejected by the whole thing.

Lana Skye opened her eyes, walking over to the shorter statured girl and Dustin, blinking at the picture in surprise. She had a momentary pause before replying, "I see."

"I still wonder about that Gumshoe," Rassmuten muttered. "I feel kind of bad for him, you know?"

"What's Gumshoe got to do with it?" Watson asked by his desk, which the meeting somehow congregated at.

"Just cause he worked with him doesn't mean anything. Maybe he'll realise he did it too," Richardson replied coyly. "The sooner he knows that, the better off he'll be. Who knows, maybe his salary will actually be worthy enough for him to live off of."

"Considering he is off the investigation force—" Lana began, looking at each officer that was present for the meeting. Then, she tried a different approach with them. "I'm sure you all know the Chief makes sure we do things for a reason." She said almost bitterly, putting her right hand behind her. "Let's not forget the revival of the DL-6 case." She said a bit loudly, looking thoughtful.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter. This isn't DL-6," Prince said. "This is a whole other case. It may be true that it's right after the statute of limitations of it, but this isn't the same thing."

Lana Skye chuckled darkly. "It does matter. I'm suspicious of Gumshoe. The chief took him off this case. He may or may not be helping Mr. Edgeworth in the meantime. He was hesistant in that last case."

_Well, if that was the man that was helping you, gives you a job, and actually treats you like you are doing your job—wouldn't you want to help them, too? Dick, I do understand, but I don't know what I can do to help you, this time._

Lana's brown eyes closed once more. "Is this all there is to report?"

Watson produced one more bag. "The dart. Filled with a sedative. Works quick too, from what he said."

Lana Skye shook her head. "Works quickly?" She flipped through the autopsy report one more. Well. "I see. Well, our case seems pretty solid."

Some of them looked glum as she shook her head.

Lana folded her arms. "Alright. So these are the final pieces of evidence for tomorrow." She turned to look at each of the officers. "Byrde. Prince. Rassmuten. Watson. Richardson. I want to know your thoughts to the evidence and the case. I will be putting all the pieces tomorrow myself."

"Well, it looks bad for him," Watson said

Rassmuten nodded. "Despite the fact that I like the guy, I think that this might be a tight one to squeeze out of."

"The evidence will tell everything," Richardson said coolly as he glanced at all the pieces.

"Something just doesn't fit," Prince said. "Why Phoenix Wright? Why was he at the house?"

_I knew it!! You don't think so, either! Maybe—_

Lana eyed the evidence cooly. "They do fit. Very nicely might I add. Not so nicely for Mr. Edgeworth. Mr. Wright saved him from a guilty sentence true. This is also the Mr. Wright who ruined his perfect record we all knew he was proud of. We have to consider that Mr. Edgeworth isn't exactly . . . " She searched for the right word. " . . . .his best. The maid was killed because she was in the way. Then the police were called."

" . . . its true. Edgeworth did look out of sorts at the scene . . . " Rassmuten said gloomily.

"He does have a motive," Richardson reminded everyone, looking at them carefully. Maggey noticed that his eyes rested on her the longest. "With Phoenix Wright ruining his record, why wouldn't he try to kill him?"

"Richardson," Watson muttered, "we don't KNOW if he did it yet. For all we know, the man could be framed."

"Yeah!" Maggey piped up. She finally could not take anymore of this. "We don't know! It could be like—"

"That's simply ridiculous," Richardson spat out. "There's enough evidence against him."

Lana flicked back her muffler. "Enough. We will find out the truth in court tomorrow, if we can through this evidence. All we can do is believe what we have now, and make the best solution."

"If you were looking for Gumshoe, I could bring him here, Miss Skye," Dustin offered.

The woman shook her head. "Don't worry about it; it's getting late. I'm going to the office to prepare for the next day. I want to make sure everyone's job is done right."

Maggey hung her head, but looked at Dustin as Lana and everyone else started to disperse. "Isn't there anything that we can do, Dustin?"

But her partner glanced at her and shrugged. "Let's see how this plays out, Maggey. I'm pretty sure that things will be fine."

"Well, if you think so—but what about—"

Dustin patted her shoulder as he led her off. "It's alright, Maggey. Gumshoe'll be alright. I wouldn't be surprised if he has a trick up his sleeve."

_Then you believe him too . . . _ "Alright. If you say so . . ."

"Trust him, Maggey," Rassmuten said. "Gumshoe'll find a way out of this mess. I wouldn't be surprised if he almost got fired, but I think he'll get Edgeworth off."

At hearing that two out of them thought so, it lifted Maggey's spirits as she talked to them over plans for dinner.

* * *

Criminal Affairs

Dick Gumshoe's Honda Accord

9:02 AM

December 29, 2106

Never in his time that he was on the police force was Gumshoe so upset. He felt as if everything that he had ever worked for was suddenly undermined from him. What upset him even more was that Richardson seemed to bring it up constantly, as if he knew that he would be waiting and listening in. _They all seemed like they were against him. Maggey tried . . . At least one person was on my side. _

As he was walking to the car, he pulled out his little Nokia and a piece of paper, dialing a series of numbers that had been scribbled down. He held onto the phone for dear life as he heard a voice on the other line. "Detective?"

"Hey, I need you to wait for me at the office, pal. We have something we have to do." Gumshoe tried to keep his voice down as he heard footsteps coming his way. He wanted to get to his car before he was noticed. "You need a ride home, anyway, don't you?"

"You're going to help Edgeworth?" Maya asked on the other line.

"Yeah, pal. I got to." He was trying to get his keys to open up the car door quickly.

"Alright, I'll wait. I'll help too! See you there!" He couldn't help but hear how enthaustic she was as she hung up the phone.

Gumshoe sighed in relief as he hung it up. At least he could FIND Wright and Co. offices. It was not like he had not been there before . . . but then as he was about to open his car door, he heard a snooty voice behind him and almost dropped his keys.

"Detective." Richardson addressed him as Gumshoe turned around, the keys in his head. "I heard you were pulled off the case."

Gumshoe glared at him. "Heard, or just was responsible?"

The brown haired man glanced to the police station before slamming a hand into the detective's car. "Really. You should know better then to say things like that. How would I be responsible for your dismissal on this case?"

"I know it was partly--"

"What, you're going to accuse me, Detective? At least I'm not that little prosecutor's lapdog."

The words stung as Gumshoe tried to hide his face, as if he was slapped.

"So what does Edgeworth make you do for him?" The other fist slammed into the car as he now pinned Gumshoe and grabbed him by the collar. "Besides forging evidence?"

"Hey, pal, he never forged--"

"That's enough, Detective Richardson." Dustin Prince stated as Rassmuten and Maggey came with him, his hand still on her shoulder.

Maggey gulped at his side, unable to form words.

Gumshoe glanced away from Maggey, unable to thank her for not blowing his cover earlier.

Watson sighed as he also came up behind them. "Guys, I know we're all trying our best here . . . "

Richardson smirked as he looked to Dustin. "I just was asking him if he found anything, since he was the first one on the scene."

Gumshoe bit his lip as he said, "And I said I didn't find anything. Now, can I leave in peace?"

Dustin Prince folded his arms. "I know, Detective . . . but . . . "

"You two shouldn't be fighting! We're all supposed to work together!" Maggey yelled.

_I'm sorry, Maggey,_ Gumshoe thought to himself. _We'll settle this so we'll all be a team again . . ._

Rassmuten dared to come up to the car to pull them apart. "We don't need anymore mystery or cover ups on this case. We need to make this work, to make this count. Ms. Lana Skye is counting on us. Just.—don't let this happen, especially in front of her okay? It's like she said— it doesn't matter what we think."

Richardson glared at Rassmuten as he threw Gumshoe against the car, but walked off angrily back in the building. "If I find out you're hiding anything, or helping Edgeworth, I'll report it," he said before turning out of view.

"As badly as he acted, Detective Gumshoe, he's right." Watson shook his head before following off after Richardson.

Maggey gasped as she bit her lip.

Dustin shook his head. "Well. I'm sorry to say Detective, your actions do confirm Richardson's suspicions, sir."

"They pulled me off the case an hour ago, and said to go home," Gumshoe said. "Believe me, I'm still a bit upset about it. Just cause I worked with the boss doesn't mean anything. I wanna know who did this too, pal."

Rassmuten gave a sigh reminiscent of Watson. "Well, I don't like it myself, sir."

Maggey shook her head. "I-I know you are, sir! But--but--!" She said, shaking her fists up and down.

"What?" Gumshoe asked. "You didn't know Richardson loses his temper like that?" The detective raised an eyebrow as he heard his phone going off and answered it. "Hello?" A pause. "Yeah." Then he looked to Maggey and Dustin. " . . . well, yeah." Another pause. "Ok." Then he hung up. "Sorry."

"It's not that, sir. What . . . Maggey . . . well what we're trying to say is that we need to do our jobs." Dustin said.

Maggey nodded. "Yes! That's correct, sir!"

"Well, how can I if they pulled me from the case?" The detective said.

Dustin looked to Maggey and smiled.

"Well sir! I do my job even though I'm not on duty! Like helping out old ladies across the streets, then leading them safely to their destinations, and carrying their groceries back to their house--"

Dustin cleared his throat, cutting Maggey off. "We trust the evidence, sir."

Gumshoe looked glum as he heard that. "It's all against him, isn't it?"

Dustin looked to the other side, as Maggey held her arm. Dustin was the one to speak, however, and looked Gumshoe straight in the face. "Don't you trust Ms. Skye, sir?"


End file.
